Vekin87 OneShots
by Vekin87
Summary: Just a series of brief,select scenes pertaining to some of my original characters. Meant to keep you guys interested until Book 6. Most scenes will occur before the start of my series. R&R and enjoy! Completed for the time being.
1. IB

I.B

Rain thudded against the dusty window, obscuring the contents of what was inside. Ida Blackwood did her best to survey the shop quietly, though it hardly mattered. No one else was in Knockturn Alley, not at this hour, and even if they were, the terrible thunder and pouring rain would have provided her with excellent cover.

Drawing her hood high over her blonde head with one hand, she used her other to reach into the pocket of her cloak. Slowly, she removed a withered and crumpled photograph.

The man in the photogrpah had blone hair not unlike hers, but it was swept back and pristine, highlighting his more authoritative features, which included cold, gray eyes. This was the man that had taken so much from her...

There was a flash of lighting, and she instinctively looked upwards, the words on the sign above illuminated just long enough for her to read them for the hundreth time.

_Borgin & Burkes_

She again peered through the window, just barely able to make out an almost indiscerbile shape behind the counter. There was a variety of odd objects throughout the dark shop, but she knew that what she truly sought was sitting behind thatcounter.

San's words rang through her ears in a single, unpredictable second.

_If you attack someone that Potter has protected, he will storm headquarters. And Warren will blame you._

But she didn't care anymore, none of that mattered now. Whatever immunity Potter had granted the Malfoy family could not stop them from getting what was coming to them. There was no point in protecting WAR now, they were as good as finished. With monsters like that "Red War" catching fifty former Death Eaters a week, it was only a matter of time before Wands and Redemption became obsolete. No, what she was going to do tonight had nothing to do with redemption. This was about revenge. San's warnings no longer applied.

_San._

With a pang in her gut, she wondered vaguely where he was now. Had he finally worked up the courage to find that floozy? Had they already, perhaps, failed once more in their attempts at creating a life? She smirked at the thought, then immediately felt sick with herself. Nothing was San's fault right now. This was about her, and Lucius Malfoy. And soon, Malfoy's son. Who, if her information was correct, was sitting inside this dingy shop right now, oblivious to the recompense that his family was about to be administered.

She tucked the photograph away inside her robes, then straightened her face confidently. It was time to shelve all other things in her mind. It was time to focus on the task at hand.

She opened the door lightly, stepping through onto the dry ground and pulling her hood back as she did so; she'd take the appearance of a regular customer at first. She heard a small bell ring to signal her entrance, and she inexplicably jumped. Why was she so nervous?

The shop screamed dark arts. There was all manners of the disgusting and the dicrepit, from a skull with emeralds in the eye sockets to what looked like actual human flesh hanging on the wall furthest from her, glowing ominously. She tried to maintain her composure as she walked by the first item in the shop, a golden plate that sat behind glass, strange symbols drawn on it an inky black.

The man behind the counter looked up upon her entrance, and she almost gasped. His hair was not grown back or drawn out like his father's, but the face was the same. Pale, with pointed features. An expression that somehow managed to give off a feeling of both smugness and unconcern. Cold, gray eyes.

"Can I help you?" the man said, his voice an eerie drawl that matched his disposition perfectly.

She looked up, taken aback at being addressed. She spoke just as a clap of thunder sounded behind her.

"N-no. Just looking" she whispered.

Malfoy's son shrugged and turned his head away, though he remained firmly behind the counter, looking extremely bored. Careful not to arouse suspicion, she dipped around different items that were repugnant in nature, pretending to examine them carefully each time. She almost vomited upon seeing a preserved "thestral heart", which looked like a slimy, enlarged piece of coal.

She noticed that she was shaking, almost in tune to the sound of the rain outside. She'd need to compose herself. She had killed before, this was nothing new. But still, she'd never been able to do it in the way that Zydrunas could. Or the way that San could. Though then again, San would have nothing to do with this anyway. As far as she knew, he'd never killed someone innocent before.

_Innocent_. The word reverberated around her head, and she sneered. This man was probably far from innocent, and besides, it was not his actions that he was paying for anyway; it was his father's. Today, it would be his father that really felt pain, the pain that she knew all too well. The pain of losing a loved one.

"Are you okay?"

The vacant sounding voice jolted her back into awareness. She quickly turned her attention back to Malfoy, nodding her head quickly. Clearing her throat, she inched herself towards the counter. She felt her heart beat quicken.

Malfoy eyed her placidly as she approached, clearly not understanding the imminence of his death. She dug her hand into her cloak nonchalantly as she strode towards him, gripping her wand as she walked. Intent on maintaing her unsuspicious nature all the way up until the deed was done, she avoided his gaze and stared absent-mindedly at the items behind his head. Her eyes fell upon a decayed, shrivelled hand.

Malfoy turned to see what she was looking out.

"The Hand of Glory" he said, his voice smooth and business like. There was another clap of thunder. "When holding a candle it gives light only to the holder-an excellent item for thieves and plunderers. Exceedingly rare as well, possibly even as much as Cursed Chimaera Claws or Invisibility Cloaks. I'm actually the only person I know of who owns one."

She continued to stare at the Hand, desperate to not make eye contact. For some reason, eye contact didn't feel right. Not preceding what she was going to do.

"This one, is of course, for sale" Malfoy continued, waving his hand towards it.

"It's lovely" she breathed, gripping her wand even tighter and positioning herself so that she was facing him directly, the wooden counter the only thing stopping bodily contact. Now was the time.

"I'm sorry" he said quickly, and she raised her eyebrows. "But I'm going to have to ask you to select an item very soon. I'm closing down a little earlier tonight-"

She blinked at his abrupt stop away and went to pull out her wand-

"- it's my son's birthday tomorrow and I need to wrap his presents. I will be here early in the morning however, so if you like I can set something aside-"

"Your son?" she cut him off, her eyes widening. She stopped her arm in the middle of its movement. It was still concealed.

Malfoy smiled at her, an unusual look. His face seemed to suggest that he was more of snarling type.

"Yes, my son" he repeated, and she felt her heartbeat, if possible, quicken even more. She watched as Malfoy opened up a drawer, removing a small photograph from it and holding it up at once. He beamed at it as he spoke. "Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy" he announced cheerfully, and for the first time, his tone suggested something other than utter boredom.

What started as a glance manipulated itself into a stare. The boy in the picture was not very old, but he still had the uncanny resemblence to his father. His cheeks were fuller, but stll pale, with a pink twinge. He was wearing overalls, and was waving his hand back in forth as if greeting someone. He looked happy...like how she had been before she'd lost her parents. Her expression remained transfixed while thoughts flooded through her head. Malfoy pulled the photogrpah away however, and then made to stash it back in the drawer.

"Anyway, like I was saying, if you'd like to select an item now that you might be interested in, I could-hey-excuse me, miss!"

She had already turned around, storming away so quickly that her robe had fluttered, nearly knocking over a malevelonent looking urn.

"Miss, where-"

She exited the shop, the bell noise accompanied by yet another thrash of thunder. She began walking as fast as she could, uncaring as to the direction. It was still raining ferociously, the drops now dampening her long hair and spilling over her face, concealing her tears while the splashing noises on the ground masked her sobs.

* * *

><p><strong>Hello readers! Vekin87 here, just to give you guys a bit of info. I have not yet started writing Book 6, but planning is underway I hope to begin writing in mid-June, and to use my lengthly summer break to get really cracking on updating. I may work over the summer (hopefully) but this shouldn't effect it at all.<strong>

**That being said though, I figured I'd wet some appetites for book 6 by handing out a couple scenes that, though not terribly necessary to my overall series, give some good details as to the personalities of some of my OC's. How often I'll be doing this I can not say, but I cna tell you I already have about 3 more planned, and they don't really take long at all to write down. Reveiews are, as always, completely unnecessary, but I am curious as to what you guys think, so if you have some criticisms, or some recommendations for qhich characters to do next or soon, I'd love to hear them!**

**Also, I've mentioned it once before but I'd might as well throw it out there again. Last year my girlfriend made something of a tongue and cheek facebook page for me. Though humurous in nature, I "liked it" and realized that people can have discussions on it. So for those of you who want to theorize or discuss my stories with other readers, and if you have a facebook, feel free to like it and chat away. Simply typing "Vekin87 fan page" into the search bar should do it. That being said however, those of you who don't like it won't be missing out at all-there will be no extra content of any kind, and unless I see something get out of hand (like someone claiming to be me-I've been plagarized before) I probably won't be an active member myself. Just a suggestion for you guys out there that want to keep the these stories on your mind while Book 6 is in the works.**

**As always, thank you for all of the support and loyal readership! I wish I could do more than post thse one shots every once in a while, but fear not-Book 6 is coming, and it's going to be big.**

**Hoping that all of my readers and their loved ones are doing well,**

**-Kevin **


	2. FW

F.W

Fango Wilde didn't need to look in the mirror to know what his face would look like. He knew his own reflection to typically to be that of boredom; a stoic look that made him look lifeless, almost statuesque, even. But not today. Today, he knew, his eyes were darting back and forth. Today, he was sweating.

He heard footsteps. Spinning around immediately, he analyzed his surroundings, uninterrupted for the last time it would seem. He'd requested somewhere secluded, and he'd certainly gotten his wish. He was standing in an alleyway that was thick with dirt, a small aisle in a run-down neighborhood not far from an old orphanage. It was an area that screamed negligence, and due to the lateness of the hour, he suspected he and his visitor would have little to worry about in terms or being overheard. But he wasn't sweating in fear of being found. No, this perspiration was indicative of something far more foreboding.

The footsteps turned into the alley, accompanied by a tall, dark figure. Shrouded in a cloak so black that it nearly blended in with the tar on the ground, the man came to a halt upon seeing him. Fango noticed that he kept his head low, using his hood to conceal his face.

"You're late" Fango barked, running his hand through his tuft of plain brown hair. He felt his palm slip across his forehead as he did so.

The hooded man raised his head up an inch, allowing his brilliant blue eyes to flash for a mere moment.

"Apologies" he said sweetly, though he couldn't have sounded less apologetic.

"You can remove your hood" Fango said again, his voice firm. He was not frightened of this man, and he was not going to let him think such a thing either. "My face is visible."

The man across from him stayed still for several seconds before finally pulling his hood back. Contrasting his black cloak was a sheet of neck length blonde hair. He had sharp features, including a toothy grin and high cheek bones. His most unnerving feature, however, was his previously visible eyes. They were an electric blue, and they had an uncomfortable glint of madness in them.

"What's your name?" Fango asked him next, though the man immediately made it obvious that he'd gone too far.

"You contacted me" the man said. "I think it's time that _I _started to ask some questions."

"A mere first name will do" Fango said plainly, still not intimidated in the slightest. "I simply want to be able to address you by-"

"Sebastian" the man cut him off. "Now, as I was saying, you contacted me. What is the purpose of this meeting?"

"I have information that you want" Fango responded quickly. He would get straight to the point with it, he didn't want this to take any longer than it needed to be. Though not afraid of this man-Sebastian, his name appeared to be-he could not deny that there was an uncomfortable aura of unpredictability to him; it was quite unsettling.

"_I _don't want anything" Sebastian stressed. "My broth-the man who I work for," he changed his sentence midway, "wants information. But it is highly unlikely that you possess it."

"Does it not pertain to Project Demiguise?" Fango said at once, pleased with how the term had resonated instantaneously. Sebastian's blonde eyebrows had risen. "And a certain famed wandmaker, gone into hiding?"

Sebastian did not speak for a moment. When he finally did open his mouth, he appeared to be choosing his words carefully. "Merely knowing is not enough. We need a location, and there is nothing to suggest that-"

"I work in the Department of Magical Transportation" Fango said abruptly, refusing to let the man goad him anymore. "And I am high enough up that I can tell you everything that you need to know about magical travel-including which places have the most anti-apparition charms around them, and the like. I can tell you exactly where Vladamir Chekov is located, and, what's more, I can assure you that you will never locate him without me" he finished icily.

For the first time tonight, he felt confident. His ephemeral pleasure evaporated when he realized how close he was to making his proposition however. He could still back out now...

"I see" Sebastian said, his voice shaky. He was beaming. "The man who I work for is willing to offer a substantial amount of payment in exchange for that particular piece of information, as well as the promise that our little-er-_negotiation_ will remain entirely confidential. We can assure you that his own identity is an-"

"I don't care about who you work for, or his gold" Fango said briskly, and how he felt his body shake. He could not back out now...could not dwell or contemplate on it anymore. He could not let San get to her first.

"Is that so?" Sebastian said, and for a moment he looked as though he was going to draw a wand.

"Indeed it is" Fango said sharply. "I require a different kind of payment."

"I'm listening" Sebastian said, narrowing his eyes intensely.

"I need you to find someone" Fango said, and he felt his insides squirm. Was he really doing this? What kind of a monster was he?

"I need you to find someone," he said again, "and I need you to do it quickly. I-I have reason to believe that someone else is currently seeking them. I myself can not personally search...for reasons I will not divulge."

"I see" Sebastian said, and though he looked bemused, his voice had relief to it. "Is this person dangerous?"

"Highly" Fango said, feeling that it was only fair to give a warning. "I strongly recommend that you do not cross paths with him in your attempts-"

"No, not the other person searching" Sebastian said, waving his hand in an annoyed fashion. "I mean the person that I'm looking for. Is he dangerous?"

Fango opened his mouth to speak, but there were too many things wrong with that last sentence for him to have a proper rebuttal. Unsure of what to say, he dove into his cloak pocket instead, then pulled out a tattered photograph.

"Here" he said, handing the picture over. The image was ripped on one side; there'd once been more to it. Another person in it.

Sebastian took the photograph and eyed it with interest. Before he could speak however, Fango explained.

"Her name is Samantha Crowe. She-she's a muggle. I believe she is currently in Ireland. Or possibly the United States. Not-not here in Britain, however. No chance of it."

"I see" Sebastian said, tucking the photograph away in his own robes. "Very well. And what do I do once I find her? Alert her of your whereabouts or...?"

Fango tugged at his collar. Flashes of memory moved through his mind, none of them staying permanently however. "Well that's-you see the thing-when you find her," he stammered, "then that's it. I-I can not let this other person find her. Ever."

Sebastian's lips curled upwards. Fango suddenly felt sick.

"I see" Sebastian repeated, and he now sounded enthusiastic; it was as though he'd just been given a treat. "Execution it is, then..."

"But I-I have a requirement!" Fango said, holding up his hand and quickly wiping at his face with the other. His knees felt wobbly. "Make it quick! You-you know how, I'm assuming-"

"Oh yes, I know how" Sebastian said, his smile widening. He looked as though he as going to explode with excitement. What was wrong with this man?

_What's wrong with me_ Fango thought to himself. Though in his heart, he knew that he had to do this. Had no other choice. If Sancticus ever found her...she'd tell him everything. He co-existed with his former friend now in a state of complete civility, ignoring one another around the Ministry of Magic completely. But that would not be the case if Sancticus learned for sure what he undoubtedly had always suspected...

"You seem to have an excellent ability" Sebastian said, cutting him from his thoughts.

"What?" Fango asked, confused and trying to regain his composure.

"You have the ability to make seemingly tough decisions" Sebastian said softly. "The man that I work for is-not noticeably, of course-on the rise, so to speak. When he reaches his prominence, he will need those who are loyal and intelligent-those who are decisive-on his side. You seem to meet those standards. Just saying" he added carelessly, though Fango furrowed his brow.

"I'm no criminal" he spat.

Sebastian removed the flimsy photograph from his robes and waved it around for a second.

"Of course you're not" he said sarcastically.

"Just remember" Fango said through gritted teeth. "I need this done soon. When I have confirmation, I'll tell you everything that you want."

"You can expect it done by the end of summer at the very latest" Sebastian said to him, turning around and hoisting up his cloak once more. "I need to return to work in September, after all."

"And what is it that you do, exactly?" Fango asked casually, suddenly curious.

Sebastian started to walk away. As he reached the corner, he turned and allowed his eyes to flash maniacally. "I work with children" he cackled, and he turned the corner.

Fango heard a loud cracking noise, and knew at once that the man was gone, leaving him alone in the alleyway, suddenly wondering who was worse; that murderer, or himself.


	3. WW

W.W

Children pressed their faces up against the window of the shop anxiously, some of them turning back to look at one another, others keeping their focus solely on what was occuring inside. Warren Waddlesworth glanced over, waving at them briefly while they chatted excitedly and beamed in through the glass.

"I'm sorry , I'm afraid that I'm still not entirely sure of your-erm-"

Warren turned back, away from the window, now facing the pudgy shop owner that stood behind the counter. He had a wrinkley face and snowy white, short hair. His beady eyes were constantly shifting.

"My proposal?" Warren finished for the man, who nodded his head. "Quite simple, really. I'm interested in the premises."

He turned once more, not towards the window this time, but towards the interior of the sizeable shop. The shelves were lined with highly polished wooden toys, some of them meant for decoration, others with tags on them indicating their price. Some items were glowing and buzzing, others smoking and whirling, all of them looking relatively new. A toy muggle air plane was floating around above, propelled through the air magically, while a miniature, but long ceulean engine moved through the aisles on a miniature track, letting bewitched, tiny figurines step off of the train and onto shelves.

"The-the entire shop?" the elderly man asked, his voice somewhat raspy.

Warren waved his hand in a long swiping motion, implying that he was indeed seeking the shop itself, and everything in it.

The man swallowed, apparently taken very aback. "Well, Mr. Waddlesworth -"

"Mr. Nappleberry, I know that you insist on addressing me as though I'm of somewhat considerable importance, but I can assure you, we are on an equal level here-just two men doing business."

Mr. Nappleberry appeared to have no answer for this, but from the way he was surveying the man across from him, it seemed as though he did not agree. Waddlesworth was dressed in a fiery red suit, wearing a plain black tie with it that was so straight it appeared glued on. His dark red hair was thrown back and straightened as well; he was the only one here really dressed for business.

"Mr. Nappleberry, are you alright? You seem pale" Warren asked, snapping the man from his stupor.

"What? Oh-oh yes! Well, you see, the thing- the thing is- my financial situation is- is not at its best right now. May I suggest another shop of the similar sort? Why, there's an excellent place in Diagon Alley-extremely popular-goes by the name of 'Weasley's Wizar-"

"I am aware of the joke shop at Number Ninety Three, Diagaon Alley" Warren cut him off smoothly. "Though strikes me as a man who isn't intent on doing any business at all, and likewise, I'm not interested in joke shops anyway. No, toys are my interest. And this cozy little place-" he again indicating the entire room with his hand-"is one of the finest little toy shops I know of. Extremely popular with the children, in fact."

Mr. Nappleberry suddenly looked melancholy. Upon seeing the look on his face, however, Warren continued in a friendly tone.

"My dear sir, I daresay that you are misinterpreting the nature of this meeting! This is by no means an ultimatum-or-or a proposition containing an ulterior motive, no, not by any means! I should have you know that I am willing to offer a rather large sum of gol- you know what? Why don't I just show you?"

Mr. Nappleberry nodded his head, scratching at his crinkly nose as he did so.

"Zydrunas!" Warren called to nowhere in particular. Within seconds a man had emerged from one of the aisles, adorned in all black robes. He stood at more than seven feet tall by the looks of him, the tip of his bald head nearly on level with the tops of the shelves he was passing by. He was going at a slow pace, however-hindered by an extraordinarily large brown chest cradles in his arms. It looked as though it contained treasure.

Warren stepped aside to allow the Hammer clear passage to the counter, where he placed the chest down as softly as he could-the counter still shook, however. He next removed his wand, an average lengthed, but bulky instrument, and tapped the top of the chest briskly. It opened at once.

Mr. Nappleberry stared down into the chest, completely flummoxed. Mouth hanging wide open, he turned to Warren.

"This is-this is-"

"A very, _very_ large sum of gold" Warren answered. "A little bit more than six thousand Galleons actually-hard to tell with the the Enlargment Charm placed on the interior, of course-but either way, a significant amount, I'd say. Though of course, you're free to name your own terms-"

"Mr. Waddlesworth" the elderly shop owner cut him off, almost out of breath. His beady eyes raised themselves. "This is- this is much, _much _more than my shop is worth! I can't possibly-"

"Honesty" Warren said, smiling. "Such an admirable characteristic. I don't wish to buy you out and having you living on the streets in a month, my good sir, I wish for you to live comfortably, an appropriate fate for someone who has spent so long standing on their feet. This shop has survived two great wizarding wars, , it is a piece of history. The amount that I am offering, I think, is very fair for both of us."

Mr. Nappleberry stared down into the chest of gold, hardly daring to believe what was occuring. When Warren Waddlesworth had first approached him, he'd told himsel'f that he'd be firm-this shop was his life's work, after all. But now that it was mentioned, the shop _was _along in years, a survivor of turmoil indeed. How much longer would he be able to run it? He'd be looking to sell the shop soon anyway...

Fifteen minutes later and Mr. Nappleberry had vanished, the enormous chest carried out to the back of the shop by Zydrunas, the back office cleared of possessions like photographs and personal notes. It was now just Warren and his right hand man standing in the vibrant shop, facing the window in which a large group of children were dancing in front of, clearly impatient.

"That was easier than expected" Warren commented lowly. "I'd of thought that there would be at least _some _semblance of sentimental value to accompany this place, but it seems as though, once again, the mere thought of vast riches has eliminated the more humantistic traits of the simple-minded."

Zydrunas shook his head, as though he too were disappointed.

"Indeed it is disheartening...well, we'd best be pressing on, however. Open the door, Zydrunas."

Zydrunas marched his way over to the door of the shop, pushing it open with one hand, allowing the pre-pubescent customers to pour in. Screaming at the top of their lungs, the taller ones began pushing the smaller ones out of the way.

"Stop!" Warren said, holding out his hand, and they all froze mid-step. "As promised," Warren started, the shop now completey silent aside from his voice, "you may have whatever you want from this shop. Anything and everything-if you can carry it out, it's yours!"

They all started screaming in excitement again, and began shuffling their feet forward-

"Stop!" Warren said again, his hand still held up. Again, they froze. "On one condition. In ten minutes, you take whatever you have, and you briefly meet back here, at the entrance to the shop, to have a short chat. No one leaves until this is done. Understood?"

They all nodded their heads.

"Good. Start grabbing!"

The children tore passed him, maneuvering their way around Zydrunas as well as they dove through the aisles, grabbing at everything that they could see, both big and small. One youngster, the smallest of the entire group, it seemed, was forced to crawl along the ground, moving around the other children, his eyes locked on to the hovering toy plane that was now near the edge of the shop. His shaggy brown brown hair bobbled as he made his way towards it.

"A strong investment" Warren commented at once, the ado of the nabbing and shouting masking his coversation. One child was attempting to climb up a shelf in order to reach the glowing red sphere in the topmost row.

"Things are beginning to go very well" Zydrunas said, his expression not changing in the slightest as he stared at the chaos.

"Indeed" Warren agreed. "Wands and Redemption is finally gaining the recognition that it deserves, and the _Prophet_ has only helped recently. Comparing us to that tyrant Reginald Ares has given us more publicity than we ever could have hoped. Potter's star apprentice is well liked by the people-hearing that his methods are not so different from that of a Renegade's is sure to increase interest in our organization. So long as, of course, this 'Red War' fellow doesn't go against his mentor's wishes and launch an attack on us."

"You don't have to worry about that" Zydrunas said confidently, cracking his knuckles.

Warren smiled. "I know. Interesingly enough, however, have you heard from Sancticus as of late? Or is he still bitter about his most recent assignment?"

Zydrunas scoffed. "He remains angry. He insists that you stop giving him tasks that involve people with children."

Warren sighed. "When will that man realize that even Death Eaters-or EP's, as that idiot Kingsley Shacklebolt calls them now-are capable of having children as well? It does not excuse them from their actions, nor should it be used to shield them from the reprecussions. I will speak with him again."

"He won't listen" Zydrunas said, taking his eyes away from the ruckus for a moment to watch as the brown haired boy who'd been crawling on the floor made a grab at the plane, which flew right through his arms, and then out of reach. He gave a whine and continued snatching at the air.

"Perhaps not" Warren said with another sigh. "But I do hope that the message will trickle down to that protogee of his, Ida, I think her name is. She's a naturally cold thing, a born member of WAR if I've ever seen one-she'll be big in this organization, I guarentee it. But only if San doesn't poison her mind with that moral garbage that's been plaguing so many others who have not yet comprehended the nature of these times that we live in..."

They stayed silent for a few more minutes, ending only when Zydrunas barked through the shop that the ten minutes were up. The group of children-about thirty of them or so, it seemed-begrudgingly made their way towards the counter, all of them with their pockets bulging and their arms full of colorful items. The shelves behind them were desolate.

"Well I hope that you all enjoyed this little treat!" Warren said, clapping his thin hands together. The children all mumbled; they were clearly in a hurry to leave and play with their new things. "Before you all hurry off, however, I want to have a small discussion with you all about things like _safety_."

They all stared at him, waiting for him to continue. Warren beamed as he did so.

"You see, my dear children, the streets out their are safe now, in the fresh day light, in the crowd of protective mummies and daddies and so forth, but this not always the case. Outside there- right there-" he said, pointing at the window, "there are bad people. Well, really, to be honest, _evil_ people. People who, up until recently, used to have all the opportunity in the world to take away _your safety_! Frightening, isn't it?"

Again, they all stared. Warren continued, unabashed.

"There are less and less evil people every day however. Does anyone know who is to thank for that? Anyone? Just raise a ha- yes, you there!"

"The Ministry people?" said a blonde hair child in back, who had placed his toys down to be able to raise his hand.

"A very good guess!" Warren said, smiling. "But not entirely correct! You see, little ones, it is indeed the Ministry of Magic's _job_ to ensure your safety, but it is not their _obligation_. They have no real reason to do so apart from the fact that they're ordered to, and, unsurpirsingly, this makes them not as reliable as one would hope. No, the real people ensuring your safety, are people like _this _gentleman next to me!"

He waved his hand towards Zydrunas, who was as still as a statue.

"Men like Zydrunas here are part of the public-the people, just like you! You, and your families! And believe it or not, _your_ families can help protect you too! But not through the Ministry, no. Through a little group that we call..._Wands and Redemption_!"

As he said it, Zydrunas reached into his robes, removing a pile of red pamphlets out as he did so. They all bore the same sword-like insignia on the front.

"Each and every one of you today will be receiving one of these pamphlets on your way out, to be handed to your parents! When asked about the nature of the pamphlet-and your shiny new toys-I advise you all to be completely honest! Yes indeed, you can tell your parents all about what transpired today! Make sure not to get your story wrong however! Remember, you were given free items by a shop owner who is also a member of _Wands and Redemption_. My name is not important. What is important, however, is that when asked why, you tell them the truth. Because Wands and Redemption wants to _serve the community_. Everyone repeat after me now, _serve the community_."

"Serve the community!" they chorused.

"Very good!" Warren said, clapping his hands once again. "So just give your parents these pamphlets, them them know the nature of what happened here today, and don't be surprised if someday soon you're invited to take part in another little day of clearence. Why, inform your parents, and you'll find that I might just be able to give you all ten or so minutes in that lovely little candy shop down the street!"

They all cheered and moved forward in a single file line, Zydrunas handing them the crimson pamphlets one by one, each of them tucking it away in their pockets and leaving into the sunlight. Only one of them walked by without taking a pamphlet.

"Excuse me" Warren said, tapping the boy on the shoulder.

The child spun around, revealing himself to be the same small child with the shaggy brown hair. Cradled in his arms was a model plane, the treasure that he'd sought all day. He looked up, his expression bland.

"You forgot to take a pamphlet" Warren said lightly, and Zydrunas extended one to him.

"My mum says not to do anything that involves Wands and Redemption" the boy said placidly, sounding each syllable out. "He says that they're bad people."

And with that, he turned to leave. Before he could do so, however, Warren had snatched the plane from his arms.

"Then I suggest you leave at once!" he spat.

The boy's brown eyes welled up with tears. He started to sniff, staring at the toy plane with a quivering lip while other children moved passed him-

Warren sighed. "Oh go on then!" he said stiffly, thrusting the plane back into the boy's arms at once. His tearing ceased immediately. Warren took the pamphlet from Zydrunas' hand and thrusted it into the boy's arms as well. He crouched down and spoke to him in a low voice.

"Keep the toy, but give this paper to some other adult. Understand?"

The boy nodded happily, turning at once with a bounce to his step. They continued to file themselves out, Warren standing upright and shoving his hands in his pockets, watching his pamphlets walk out the door.


	4. MT

M.T

"Tunnels, Mirra!"

Mirra lifted her eyes up, trying to keep her face blank. She knew that she was sweating slightly, possibly even shaking, but she'd have to get over herself; this had to happen. She quickly brushed a lock of her out from her face, then stepped forward anxiously, hoping that she didn't look too afraid. The tattered Hat on the stool was looking ominous. Did it really know _everything_ about you?

She instinctively turned her head back as she walked, catching eyes with the fierce looking red-headed girl that had been muttering to others. Her eager expression had turned to a slightly crestfallen one, and Mirra thought that she had a small indication of why. The red-headed girl had made a noise of exasperation when that boy with the black hair-Aldous, his name may have been-was sorted. Perhaps she thought that the house he'd went to was bad?

Mirra made her way towards the stool casually, sitting down on it and pulling the Hat over her head immediately. It was best to keep calm-

"Dear me, that's a terrible secret you've got, isn't it!"

Mirra shuddered; she knew that her eyes had widened, and she was inwardly thankful that the Hat was large enough that it covered them.

"Oh, it really doesn't matter dear" the hoarse voice rattled into her ear. "You're some distance away, your eyes would give nothing away. The way that you're grasping at that pretty little key though, that's a big clue."

She felt as though she was going to faint. Her hand had indeed subconsciously shot towards the silver chain around her neck, the one reminder that she had of why she was here in the first place. Dead give away or not, she was not going to let go of her key.

"Are you going to tell anyone?" she said in her head, and even in her own mind her voice was a whisper.

"Me? Of course not" the Sorting Hat replied. "It's my job to sort, and there's nothing important to tell anyway."

This struck her as odd. Perhaps the Sorting Hat didn't know _everything_.

"Oh no, I do" the Sorting Hat said hotly. "The Dungeon, your parents, the whole thing. You should be ashamed, you should."

Mirra felt herself go numb with shock, and soon after she realized that her sorting was taking an awfully long time compared to most of the others. Was this too suspicious?

"Not really, no" the Sorting Hat commented, its tone reverting back to what it was. "Plenty of people take a few minutes."

"Will you stop doing that!" she hollered in her head, though she knew that arguing with an omniscient hat was not in her best interest. Was she anywhere close to be sorted?

"No, I will not, and no, _you're_ not" the Hat said icily, answering both of her questions in one go. "You're about as close to being sorted as you want to be" it added.

"What does that even mean?" she countered.

The Sorting Hat made a sound that resembled a sigh. "I don't make your choices. I guide; you decide, ultimately."

Mirra squirmed a little bit, raising her head slightly so that she could survey the four tables. There was no real difference to any of them; the people all looked the same. They were all occupied by mild chatter with one another, none of them really paying attention to the pale girl on the stool in front of them. There was one exception, however. A boy at the table to her far left-that Aldous boy-was staring at her very intently.

"Just pick one for me!" Mirra said, feeling desperate now. She just wanted to be out of the spotlight. "And- and you promise, right? That- that you won't tell anyone? About why I'm here?"

"Correct, I will tell no one" the Hat said with a drawl. "Because, like I said, it's nothing important anyway. I don't expect anything to happen. Oh, youth. How easily they misunderstand the true magic of this castle."

Mirra felt slightly irked at this jab. "I'm aware of the magic in and surrounding this castle" she said confidently. "Hogwarts is one of the most powerful magical locations-"

"The magical power that you're thinking of is far inferior to the kind that _I _speak of" the Sorting Hat said bluntly. "You'll see in time.. I'm sure of it. Once you make that first friend, you'll get it. Then you'll know."

"I'm not here to make friends" Mirra said to herself boldly.

"'Course you're not" the Hat said cheekily. "Whatever you'd like to tell yourself, sweetheart..."

Mirra felt her nostrils flare. "Just hurry up and sort me!" she barked. "Please!"

"Oh very well then!" the Hat snapped. "But know that I'm only putting you where you would picked anyway-some people just don't get that. So let's see...you've got smarts, that's for sure. Ravenclaw would do you fine. Hufflepuff is entirely out of the question though, I know of few Hufflepuffs with your mindset. Slytherin is a maybe. But then again, I suppose that I should really consider what it is that you plan on doing. It takes a lot of courage to even be here right now...so better be...GRYFFINDOR!"


	5. SF

S.F

Light poured through the kitchen window, the light chirping of birds penetrating the serene silence. The light reflected itself off of the lime green walls, creating a peaceful aura in the spoltess room, which was occupied by only a single person. Sitting by himself at the small, round kitchen table, Sancticus Fairhart was reading a newspaper. None of the pictures were moving.

He flipped a page casually, putting his feet up at the table as he did so. He was wearing a comfortable white t-shirt that suited the weather perfectly, and his crisp jeans were cuffed at the bottom. He looked as relaxed as possible when he heard noise coming from the sitting room.

"San!" someone called. "I'm home."

Sancticus removed his feet from the table at once, though he kept his eyes focused on the newspaper. For a brief second he took a sip of his iced tea, his face showing in the clear glass as he went to put it down on the table again. His face was young and full; completely unblemished. His hair was somewhat long, the front of it hanging over his eyes, but it was very neat as well.

"In the kitchen!" he yelled back through the house, but by the time that he'd done so someone had already entered.

She was of average height for a woman, but she carried herself in a busy manner. Her sheet of black hair swished through the air as she strode over to the table, placing two large grocery bags on it. She gave her fiancee a kiss on his forehead, and then moved her way around him and over to the sink.

"Put those away for me, would you?" she said with her back turned.

"In a minute" San said, still scanning the newspaper. Samantha turned to him, a grin on her face.

"Didn't see you were busy" she said.

San smirked and turned the newspaper all the way around, revealing to her what he was looking at.

"I'm trying to pick a good one this time!" he said, flashing the page that showed the times of the movies playing at the cinema.

"Ah" she said, turning around again and twisting on the faucet. She was right about to remove the ring around her finger when she switched the faucet off. Spinning around, she gave him a skeptical look.

"Did you do the dishes?" she inquired, and she immediately reached down and began opening up cabinets, where sure enough, pots and pans were sparkling.

"Mhm" San said nonchalantly, his eyes on the paper again.

"Washed them all, huh?"

"Yup."

"You must be tired" she said smoothly. "The sink was full."

"The price of contribution" San said lazily, looking up over the newspaper and beaming.

"I see" she responded to him, and she pulled one of the bags on the table towards her. From it, she removed a fresh bottle of dishwashing detergent. "With none of this?" she asked.

"Ah..."

Samantha sighed. "You just can't do it, can you San? Can't go _one day_."

"What!" San exclaimed. "It's faster! And we're having Fango over for dinner tonight, so I figured-"

But she had already started removing the pots and pans from the cabinets, placing them back in the sink and opening up the cap on the soap bottle as well. She turned on the faucet once more, grabbed the sponge, and set out to work.

"You're wasting your time" San said in a sing-song voice. "Magic gets rid of germs way better than that stuff."

"That may be true" Sam answered him sternly. "But _I _don't feel comfortable with it San! You know that."

Sancticus scratched at the back of his head. "I know, I'm sorry. It's just-I don't know. I mean, you know that Fango won't-"

"I know" she said, scrubbing vigorously. "I get the whole wizard thing. But it's new to me, okay? Is it so wrong that I want to sit down and have a normal Mobble dinner?"

"Muggle" he corrected her, and she rolled her eyes.

"Whatever."

"And no, I get it" San said to her. "I'm just not used to doing things without a wand. And neither is Fango, for that matter..."

"Well would it kill you to try and do something with your own two hands for once?" she said earnestly, turning back to him. "I'm afraid that one day you're going to lose your precious wizard stick and have no idea how to do anything!"

He gave her a sullen look, and the features of heart shaped face softened.

"I just-I just wish you'd do things in a more manual way sometimes" she said. "I have nothing against you or-or others like you, Fango is very nice-it's just, _I'm _not used to it" she finished breathlessly.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry" he repeated to her. "But to be fair, you don't really tell me to do stuff without magic often."

"I asked you to build those birdhouses months ago" she said at once, grabbing a towel and drying off a skillet.

"Yeah but we already have birdhouses" San said, pointing out the window and indicating the towering trees.

She chortled and turned back to the sink , and he wrapped his arms around her neck. "No, but seriously...I want to build something. With just my hands" he added quickly . "Promise."

She tensed up slightly. Her face suddenly looked simultaneously anxious and excited.

"Well," she started casually, "I did kind of have something in mind..."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, oblivious to the expression on her face.

"Mhm" she said, turning off the faucet and drying her hands this time.

"So what is it that I'm building with these bare hands of mine?" he asked, raising them up from around her collar to examine them. But she instead clasped them and moved them downwards, so that they were now laying loosely on her belly.

She inhaled sharply-

. "I was thinking maybe...a crib?"

The kitchen went silent for a moment. Slowly, she turned around in his arms, looking up into his stunned face.

His smile widened, his mouth stretching so that he looked ecstatic; positively ebullient. He leaned in and kissed her passionately, holding her face in his hands firmly, feeling as though everything was perfect-and that there was nothing that could ever take that away.


	6. Author's Note

**Author's Note**

**Hello readers! Vekin87 here, just writing to let you guys know that these one-shots are, for the time being, at least, finished. I have planned enough significant plot details for Book 6 that I'll be able to begin writing it soon, and that means that I won't be able to allocate time to these anymore. I'm sorry if your favorite character wasn't given a personal scene (though to you Ares fans who may have wanted one, you're in for something of a treat at the beginning of Book 6!) but I think that work on Book 6 is more important than this little side project. I do, however, hope to continue with the one-shots in between 6 and 7, and after the series as well-just nothing in the immediate future.**

**Also, though I'm ready to really get cracking on Book 6, it may be a bit before I start posting. I like to stay ahead of you guys by a least a few chapters, expecially in the beginning, just as a contingency for if I can't write and need to keep posting. That being said though, as I write, I do hope to give you guys some sporadic updates as to my progress, eventually, at one point, giving you guys a release date for the first chapter, and possibly an inside-the-flap-jacket summary. All information will be uploaded to this "Vekin87 One Shots" story.**

**Thanks again so much for reading, your continued support is more than I ever could have asked for.**

**Hope you guys are excited for Book 6-**

**- Kev**


	7. Author's Note 2

**Hello readers! Vekin87 here, aiming to give you guys some good news about book 6. Writing has already begun, and the story is tight enough in my head that I plan on keeping it up with little to no breaks. I can't give an EXACT date as to when it will be posted, as some early things are subject to change, but I can tell you all a little bit about the nature of the first day. Typically, I post the first two chapters on the initial publication date. This will not be the case with Book 6. As a a very big thank you for all of the support that I've been getting, I will be posting the first **_**FIVE **_**chapters of Book 6 on day one (yes, that was the number 5!), starting from noon my time, with sporadic updates leading up until just before midnight.**

**Though I can't say exactly when this will be, I can safely say that you guys shouldn't have much longer to wait, and that my next author's note should include the actual release date. Until then, however, I've got an inside-the-book-flap summary of **_**Albus Potter and the Fortress of the Dead **_**for you all : )**

* * *

><p><em>"The war is nearly over" Harry Potter says to his son, and this couldn't be more true. As Albus prepares for his sixth year of Hogwarts, it becomes readily apparent that the Wizarding World is changing before his very eyes; the public is ready to fight. Led by Warren Waddlesworth, whose run for Minister of Magic has him and his followers more popular than ever, the Renegade movement has reached its height, with more additions to the rebel cause of Wands and Redemption every day. What's more, however, the attention has seeped to the younger generation; WAR's presence lingers even in the halls of Hogwarts.<em>

_As the battles near their beginnings, Albus is given information that the rest of the world needs to know-even if they choose to ignore it. Now that Sebastian Darvy has all of the necessary requirements to launch his onsluaught on the Wizarding World, it's only a matter of time before the destruction truly begins. Albus learns that there is a timetable to these actions, however. Darvy needs a place to breed his army first. And what's more, he may just be planning on taking over already dangerous territory to do it..._

_As old rivalries die, new complications arise, and the world sinks itself deeper into the slew of propaganda issued by Warren Waddlesworth and WAR, Albus is left to struggle with the difficulties of a normal life and the burden of the uncomfortable truth-that so long as his father is imprisoned, there is no chance of Darvy being stopped. Amidst an array of situations pertaining to friends and family, Albus is forced to come to an understanding; that the world needs a hero now more than ever, sometimes in the most unexpected of ways. And sometimes, he'll soon learn, being a hero doesn't always mean saving the day and getting the girl. Sometimes, it means knowing the difference between what is correct...and what is right..._

* * *

><p><strong>I hope that you're all looking forward to book 6, and I hope to have more information soon! Best of wishes to all of my readers and their friends and families-<strong>

**-Kevin **


	8. Author's Note 3

**Hello readers!**

**Vekin87 here, giving you guys what should be the last author's note before book 6 is officially posted. As I mentioned in a previous note, the first FIVE chapters of book 6 will all be posted on the same day, starting from noon my time (I live in the east coast of the U.S) leading up until midnight. Now, however, I have scheduled a release date.**

_**Albus Potter and the Fortress of the Dead **_**will be posted, at the latest, on September 1st of this year. Because I like to stay a few chapters ahead and am already posting 5 (plus I had strep throat for a week, which sucked) and I have fallen somewhat behind in my writing. I plan on doing quite a bit in August however, and that is why September 1st seems like the most appropriate date. Also, it celebrates the two year anniversary of the release of **_**Foulest Book**_**, so that's pretty cool. It is possible that the book will be posted earlier than that, if i get wayyyy ahead of my writing, but it is unlikely, so I'd check, but not expect anything until the 1st.**

**Also, two other things of fairly important note. In addition to the Vekin87 facebook page that my girlfriend created, either one fan or several (big shout out, wish I knew your names!) have created a TV tropes page for me. Both the facebook and the tv tropes page have links on my profile, for those of you who want to join or contribute. If you don't already have a facebook...it's really not worth getting one just to like my page, to be honest. But if you DO already have one, it's probaby a good idea, because I expect book 6 to be HUGE and probably my most discussed book yet, and it's likely that once it comes out, fans will be discussing it there. I already have about 60 or so fans on there, and this will probably grow as Book 6 walks through the door, so for those of you who think that you may want to discuss book 6, it's not a bad idea to join at all. As mentioned before, both links are on my profile page for your convenience.**

**That'll do it for this author's note. I'm really excited about this book, and I hope that it doesn't disappoint-I'm really aiming high here, and I'm doing it because you guys deserve something special for all of your continued support. So best of wishes to my readers, their families and friends and all of their loved ones, and I hope you guys are eager to sink your teeth in to the next book!**

**- Kev**


	9. IB 2

I.B 2

The stench of alcohol wafted under Ida Blackwood's nostrils, accompanied by the raucous sounds of idiocy and the drab, repetitive layout in front of her. _The Dodgy Doxy _was one of the few fortunate pubs in all of Great Britain to not have been damaged by the war, but looking at the dirt on the floor and the poorly painted walls, it still gave off the impression that it was in the midst of being rebuilt.

Ida tried not to focus too much on the scenery however, instead allowing her eyes to dart back and forth from table to table, checking to see if she had aroused the suspicion of anyone. Two or three men had given her a wink, and one had even called something over to her from his stool right next to the barman, but she paid them no mind. She instead turned her head down and peered into the glass that she was holding, her reflection looking back at her in a distorted way.

Her long blonde hair fell over her young, tender face, covering the sunken eyes that hadn't been granted sleep in more than a day. Too much preparation had went in to these next few moments; she would sleep when it was all over.

She looked up from the glass and turned her gaze away from the drunk men who had been eyeing her, instead giving her full attention to the row of small circular tables were customers were enjoying their meals and alcohol together. At one table she saw what looked like a young couple, so obviously infatuated with one another that their hands were laced together across the breadth of it. A table down from them was a group of five; three witches and two wizards, all of them young and vibrant, laughing at the smallest of comments and occasionally clinking their bottles together before drinking in unison. And just a table behind them and slightly to the left sat her target.

He was flanked by two others that she'd be forced to deal with as well. None of them were wearing their hoods, but they had the sleeves of their cloaks rolled up all the way, and Ida knew that it was to conceal the marks on their arms that, years ago, she was sure, had started to fade. They were playing cards, oily, brusque expressions stretched out on their faces. One of them had short blonde hair and steely blue eyes, another looked older, his hair a tangled mess of white on his head. And the third, sitting forward and throwing a silver Sickle into the pile in the center of the table, had bushy eyebrows and inky black hair flowing behind his back in a wavy manner. He grinned toothfully as he threw the money in, showing off his crooked, yellow teeth. Of the three of them, he was the one who came closest to directly facing her, though as it was from tables away, he took no notice of the fact her eyes were boring into him.

A memory flashed before her eyes for a single moment, and Ida saw it through the cracks of a closet door. She was cowering, a little girl hiding under a pile of clothes, and through those cracks she watched as her mother fell over, a look of horror on the face that was unmistakably lifeless, snatched away from her by a grunt of laughter and a flash of green light. And when Ida looked up, she briefly saw the visage of a man, a man who'd bothered to remove his mask and look down at his victim hungrily, a man who was now sitting at that table, smiling and enjoying a life that Ida refused to let him have.

His name, Ida knew, was Frederick Boff, and he'd managed to make his way out of Azkaban by cowardly spilling over the names of his friends. It had taken her months to track him down, to acquire this information off only a mere recollection, though admittedly, it was a clear and detailed one. She didn't know who the other Death Eaters had been that day; the ones who had tortured and killer her father a room away. But she would find them as well, and soon. But first she'd get rid of this man, and the Death Eater scum around him, the others who had all undoubtedly sold out their friends as well, or who had somehow duped Shacklebolt and Potter into thinking that they were innocent.

She removed her wand slowly from her pocket, though she kept it underneath the table for the time being. She tried to gather her thoughts and focus. _Avada_ _Kedavra_,she said in her head. That was the curse, she knew, she'd heard it be used before. _Avada Kedavra,_ she repeated, making sure that the pronunciation was exactly as it had been all the times that she'd heard others use it.

Goose bumps shot through her body, but she calmed herself down with a deep breath. She could do this. This wouldn't be so hard. She didn't need to be afraid, it was _them _who should be afraid, afraid of her, because she was going to kill them, show them no mercy, just as they had done to countless others. Especially Boff.

This thought comforted her, and she made to rise from the table slowly. As she did so however, she looked to her right, towards the corner of the pub. A cloaked figure was sitting there at a table, a man most likely, and all to himself, just as she had been. His hood was drawn up over his head, a half drunken glass of what looked like water in front of him. She couldn't make out his face, but in that fleeting instant, she could have sworn that she saw him shake his head back and forth, as though he was telling her not to do something, but didn't want to draw attention to himself either.

Ida turned away and swallowed, her heart pounding in her chest. She was seeing things. That man, whoever he was, had no reason to make any gesticulation towards her. She did not know him, he did not know her, and there was no way he could have known what her intentions were. She was simply letting her nerves get to her.

Starting slow but allowing her pace to quicken, she walked forward, her wand pinned to her side so as not to let passerby become aware of it. The amiable chatter going on around her masked her footsteps, but not the loud yells of Boff, who had laid out his cards with a smirk and had proceeded to pull the silver and bronze coins across the table gleefully.

"Up for another go, boys?" he said, his tone icy, and his companions all nodded and grunted, irate.

Ida approached them with determination, trying to contort her face into one of confidence, rather than fear. Once she was close enough Boff looked up at her, and his two friends turned to face her as well.

"Want one of us to buy you a drink, sweetheart?" the blonde one said, but when Ida raised her wand up at Boff's face, their expressions all changed.

"You killed my mother!" she blurted out stupidly, unable to contain herself. _Say the curse you idiot!_ she screamed in her head, but she found that her hand was shaking. A silence had went over the entire pub, but it was only for a moment, as at the next second the three men had all risen from their seats and drawn their own wands. Boff was fastest, he raised his up lethally-

A jet of green light whizzed by Ida's head, expertly slamming Boff in the face. He flew back as people shrieked in terror, all raising from their own seats, and Ida could only stare in confusion as she watched his dead body collide with the table.

She turned stupidly to see who had fired the curse, aware that the other two would soon recover from their collective stupor, but still in desperate need to know who had done the deed. The man from the corner of the pub was now on his feet, pacing forward quickly, his wand brandished and his hood down, revealing untidy black hair and a scarred and mangled face that made her whimper softly...

The man flicked his wand casually, and all of the stools and tables began to levitate and swirl around in the air. People streaked by her as the furniture danced throughout the pub, and Ida saw that the reason that she wasn't dead yet was because the two men had been knocked aside by a table, and were now on the floor trying to hoist themselves back up.

She knew that she should prevent this, but she was too awestruck by the scene around her. The barman-an elderly fellow with wrinkled skin and a tuft of white hair-raised his wand at the disfigured man.

"Drop it!" he yelled.

But the scarred murderer only continued forward briskly, aiming his wand over his shoulder as he did so. There was a loud noise, and the next thing that Ida knew, the man had dropped his wand and fallen to the floor behind the bartop, clutching at his wrist. The men that had been jeering at her before had all evacuated the pub.

The once-hooded figure strode forward with something resembling arrogance, his gaze fixated entirely on the two men who were getting back on their feet. The young man who had been clutching his lover from across the table had pulled out his own wand, and he foolishly attempted to fire a red spell at the scarred man moving forward, who jerked his wand upwards and sent the spell flying into the ceiling. He then made another wand movement, this one a sharp prod through the air, and a stool that had been floating around behind his attacker smashed into the back of his legs, sending him face forward to the ground. His girlfriend gave a wail and sank to her knees to tend to him.

Ida had seen enough. Whoever this man was, he was now the most dangerous thing in the pub, and for that, she raised her wand at him just as he was coming towards her-

He walked by her without sparing a glance however, either oblivious to the wand in her hand or simply not intimidated by it. Her two other targets had backed up into the corner of the pub with leers on their faces, their wands raised at the man with the mangled face, which Ida saw now was only actually on one side. One of them made to fire a Killing Curse, but it was struck in mid-air by one of the still floating, round tables, which burst into flames on contact. The other man fired a dark red curse that somehow made it through the array of floating objects, but it was knocked away by a sharp wave of the scarred man's wand. He then flicked it once more, and a bottle knocked from the floor in the ruckus lunger upwards as though it had legs, smashing into the man's head and sending him down to the ground.

Ida kept her wand pointed at the man's back, though it was now shaking up and down violently. It was just he and the remaining target now, the blonde one, and he had pressed his back against the wall, his wand sliding from his fingers as though to concede defeat.

The murderer struck his wand through the air for another one, and succeeded. The streak of green hit the man and sent him to the floor, slumped up slightly and with his dead eyes wide open. Ida watched as the victor continued to stride forward however, and when he finally came to a halt, it was to aim his wand downwards at the grumbling man on the floor, whose head was bleeding badly. Another streak of green, and all three of Ida's targets had been hit.

She still had her wand pointed at the man's back, and he still hadn't turned. Instead, he crouched down curtly, and made movements towards the corpses of the two men. For a moment, Ida considered that he was a thief as well as a murderer; was rifling through their pockets for gold. When he stood up again, however, she saw that he'd only rolled up their sleeves. Muggy Dark Marks were now exposed on their flesh.

"You can lower that wand now" the man said, still not looking at her, and Ida was actually taken aback by the smoothness of his voice. He slowly turned to face her from across the now deserted pub. "Me and you both know you're not going to do anything with it" he added, a slight grin twisting on his face to make him even more repulsive.

"Don't come anywhere near me!" Ida screeched, trying to sound much more brave then she actually was.

"Are you okay?" he man asked her, and Ida, despite being taken aback by his words, didn't answer them.

"Don't come near me!" she said again, eyeing the wand in his hand with fear. She took a moment to consider the position that she was in. How had this happened? She had not been expecting anything like this...

The man sighed and rolled his eyes, and he then started to walk forward towards her.

"Stop right there!" she bellowed, but if anything he sped up, closer and closer-

She did nothing, unable to focus on anything other than the icy feeling that was coating her skin. And he walked right by her, wand raised and all, and headed for the door.

Ida gawked at him, watching as he stopped briefly only to crouch down and roll up the sleeve of Boff. And then, swiftly, he went to exit the pub.

An unnatural feeling of curiosity overwhelmed her, and before Ida could do any rational thinking, she followed along after him, pushing the door open just as it was swinging closed. She found herself in darkness, and apart from her and the man she was following, there was no one in sight; everyone had scattered following the ordeal.

"Wait!" she called out, hurrying along after him as his cloak swept across the street. He either ignored her or didn't hear her, and kept up his pace until she had literally ran after him and grabbed on to the back of his cloak. He spun around quickly, the moonlight illuminating what looked like a highly irritated expression on his face, though it was difficult to tell, considering how much of a mess half of it was.

"What do you _want_?" he said, making the agitation in his voice known.

"Who are you?" Ida said crisply through the night, and subconsciously, she raised her wand just slightly.

"None of your concern" he replied dryly, and he went to turn away from her.

She grabbed at his robes again though, this time practically pulling him around.

"That man you killed," she started fiercely, "you owe me an explanation for that. He was _mine_-"

The man gave a hoarse laugh, and Ida felt her face go red. When his laughter had died out however, he turned to look around at the numerous shops and homes that littered the village, as though displeased with himself for making noise. And then, abruptly, he grabbed her.

She made to squirm away, but there was no point. In only a few seconds he'd relinquished the hold, and it was only after he'd steered her into an abandoned alleyway. A stray cat came shooting passed them from around a pile of rubbish, but other than that, there was nothing to overhear them.

"Let's get something straight," the man started, "you weren't going to kill anyone. Those men would have torn you to shreds-"

Ida made to interject, but his next words made her shut her mouth.

"-and even if they didn't, you wouldn't have had it in you anyway."

Ida felt her mouth thin. "That's not true" she said stubbornly. "I would have. I've done it before" she lied, and the man chortled again.

"You don't need to lie to me" he said lamely. "Me and you both know what went on in that pub. This was your first time attempting anything of the sort."

Ida felt her eyes narrow. "How do you know that?" she asked sullenly, staring at the man's horrendous face with amusement.

"Because you made it so obvious" he said lightly. "You looked everywhere _but _over at them for the first hour, you continued to sip from an empty glass, you fidgeted whenever some came near you-"

"Okay, I get it!" Ida snapped. "But that doesn't change the fact that-"

"-that they were your men to kill?" the man said, the side of his mouth that seemed capable of movement curling upwards into a smirk.

"That's right, they were!" Ida snapped. She'd allowed the thought to elude her mind thus far, but she was now going to make her indignation known. She'd spent months tracking that man down, and this fellow had taken it upon himself to claim the prize. "What right did you have to go and kill him-"

"He was my assignment" the man replied, not sounding very perturbed at all. "As were the other two. I did what I was instructed to do; I can assure you, I did not ask for such a boring task. I had hoped to be done with it in a much simpler way, but your interference-"

"_You _interfered with _my_-"

"Do we really have to go over this again?" the man asked curtly, his dark hair falling over the sides of his head as he shook it. "You weren't going to do anything, other than die of course. If anything, you should be thankful that I just so happened to be sent here tonight."

Ida said nothing, unwilling to confess that he was speaking the truth. Something about his words were of interest to her, however. He spoke of "assignments" and being "sent". And yet, she had never seen or heard of a Ministry man doing what he had just done...

A word danced through her head. Sometimes, she would here the word "Renegade", and she knew it to mean a vigilante of sorts; a wizard or witch that didn't follow the rules and regulations of the Wizarding World. But what this man spoke of sounded organized; legitimate. Like there were others who were working alongside him...

"You went after those men because they were Death Eaters, right?" Ida asked him hesitantly, and he heaved a sigh.

"Correct" he said. "Boff was definitely a murderer, though he claimed to have been forced into it, and giving up enough names earned him his freedom. Bulstrode was a worker bee of sorts, who only really blackmailed and did menial tasks, but wore the Mark all the same. And Tendry got off free claiming to have been under the Imperius Curse, but there's plenty of information to suggest otherwise."

Ida nodded, then asked her next question. "And you're- you're not an Auror?"

The man chortled again, as if the idea was preposterous.

"No, I'm not."

"And there are more people like you?" she asked breathlessly. "Who- who find and kill Death Eaters and such-"

"How old are you?" the man cut her off abruptly.

"Twenty-five" she quickly lied, and no sooner had the words left her mouth did he ask her another question.

"How old are you _really_?"

Ida frowned. "I turned seventeen last week" she admitted.

The man made a noise of understanding before he spoke.

"I see" he said. "You've been after that man for a while, then."

"How did you know?" Ida asked him.

"You lost your Trace when you turned seventeen" he answered her. "And the first thing that you did was decide to use magic that couldn't be tracked down so easily. You've been waiting for a while."

Ida said nothing, and when the silence stretched on for too long, the man went to turn away again.

"Go home to your parents" he said. "It's after midnight, they'll be worried-"

"I haven't got any parents" Ida shot out, and the man stopped mid-turn. Slowly, he turned back to her, a frown stretching out on his face, which only served to ruin it further. Ida was still not used to this, and without thinking, she commented on it.

"What happened to your face?"

The man stared at her for only a fraction of a second, before he answered her in a clear, almost icy tone.

"I tried taking on three Death Eaters, back when I had no idea what I was doing."

Ida nodded, and only a second after accepting it as truth did she realize that he was mocking her. She, after all, had just tried to do just as he'd said.

A silence overtook them once more, and this time Ida felt that it was actually quite soothing. She had the strange impression that the man in front of her scarcely ever spoke to strangers, least of all about his face. It was he who broke the silence.

"What's your name?" he asked her.

"Ida" she answered at once, knowing that there was no point to lying.

"Well Ida," he started, "I'm sorry that I interfered with your business tonight. I would be astounded if such a thing ever happens again, and I can promise you, if I see you in a pub eyeing strangers, I will consider the mission compromised and move on."

He nodded curtly to her, and then turned sharply, his black hair and cloak making him look as though a shadow from behind.

"Wait!" Ida called out again, and he turned once more. "What's your name?" she asked him.

The man eyed her with interest. "Sancticus" he said after a moment.

"That's a bit strange, isn't it?" Ida said, hoping that she wasn't over stepping any boundaries. "What do your friends call you?"

"I don't have any friends," he answered automatically, but when he saw the grimace on her face, he added, "just 'San' for short, I suppose. I've been called that before."

They stood staring at one another awkwardly, and then Ida asked her most outrageous question yet.

"Can I go with you, San?" she asked timidly. "Wherever- wherever it is you're going?"

She had made up her mind the second that she'd realized that the man was a Renegade. Boff may be gone, but there were others out there, others that she wanted dead. This man, and his group of people, it seemed, could lead her to them. And what's more, he seemed to be quite capable when it came to killing these people. She could do with some lessons in that...

"You don't want this life" he said to her, shaking his head. "Believe me...it's not what you think it is."

"I have nowhere else to go!" Ida pleaded, and it was the truth. For years she'd made her way around. She'd stayed with distant family after her parents had died, but they knew nothing of her kind. She was on her own, and if she had to be with people, she'd want to be with people like her; people who had no reservations about killing those who had no right living.

The man known as Sancticus continued to stare at her, and it seemed as though he was struggling with something in his head. She wanted to speak up; to let him know that she could fend for herself and that she wouldn't be a burden in any way, but she thought it better to simply hold her silence and wait-

He struck his wand through the air swiftly, and Ida flinched. When she'd opened her eyes, however, she saw that he'd only created something silver; a small, shimmery bird. It flittered around him and landed on his shoulder, though it didn't appear to be solid. She watched as he spoke to it.

"Send message to Zydrunas" he said coyly. "All three killed. Some damage to the area and a few civilian injuries; shouldn't cost too much."

He paused there briefly, and Ida watched as he continued to gaze at her. After a moment, he added something softly.

"Also, inform Warren that I'm brining someone along. He'll want to speak with her."

Ida allowed the smallest of smiles to form on her face, but as the bird flew off into the starry night, she saw that the scarred man known as Sancticus was not smiling back.


	10. Author's Note 4

**Hello readers!**

**Vekin87 here, just filling you guys in briefly on some of what's been going on. First and foremost, Project Grammar has officially launched! My first book, "Albus Potter and the Dungeon of Merlin's Mist", has now been re-uploaded, and for those of you may be curious as to which changes were made, I can outline a few of them. The spaces between quotation marks and the first word of each line of dialogue have now been removed, apostrophies have either been added or removed depending on when necessary, lines of dialogue without quotation marks have had them added, and small, hardly noticeable words have been thrown in for polish. Line breaks have also been added to separate scenes (I was actually always doing this, it just wasn't showing up) and a few author's notes that relate to posting (i.e, when the next chapter will be up) have been removed. Spelling has been fixed as well.**

**I promised that nothing would be changed continuity wise, and for the most part, this stayed true. I DID, however, make an actual story change to chapter seven, "The Diary of Rose Weasley", which formerly had an infamous error that made Dominique a boy rather than a girl. To not cause confusion by switching the gender around, I simply replaced Dominique's small role with Louis' (who I am PRAYING is a boy, I didn't look it up). Dominique's gender is now never mentioned in my series, so it can be assumed that they're a girl.**

**Boom. Don't call it a comeback.**

**I'd also like to thank (and for any of you reviewing, you should throw a shout out too) my brother for painstakingly making the vast majority of these edits. His help has vastly improved the editing process, and for those of you interested in starting the series over with these improvements added, you should know that he'd hard at work on next few books, and then once I look over them, I hope to have 2-4 up soon enough; thankfully, 3 and 4 don't have that many errors to begin with, so the process should move faster at that point. So look out for Book 2 soon!**

**Next order of business involves the forum that I mentioned. Responses to the inquiry were overwhelmingly positive, with readers in the reviews, polls, and official facebook page all rooting for it. I thus hope to have the forum up and running sometime this week, so that yu guy will be able to discuss all the going-ons of the series, including new book 7 information, as well anything about the older books. **

**In terms of one-shots, I slacked off a bit after the most recent one with Blackwood, but I have an Ares one-shot that I planning on writing very soon (you should also expect it up within the week) and its a scene that I've actually had in my head for years, and thus I'm very excited to share it with you all. Just to tease, I can tell you that it takes place before the series begins, and involves him meeting a biological relative for the first time.**

**And finally, we reach Book 7. I have no new information to give out at the time about the actual story, but I can tell you that I've started putting together an outline in my head. I've recently managed to enroll for this spring semester of college, but due to some financial difficulties, am only able to go part time. This means that Book 7 is NOT on hold, and that I plan on writing it during the semester; once I start writing the early chapters I will post an author's note with an inside the flap jacket summary, as well as an official release date. Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the next one-shot, the new forum, and the refurbished "Dragonfang Wand". As always, if you have an comments or suggestions, feel free to leave a review or post on the facebook page, and know that soon enough you'll have a forum to do as well!**

**And once again, I'd just like to thank all of my readers for their continued support, and for making this series something truly special. I hope to speak to you all again soon,**

**-Kev**


	11. RA

**A/N The forum is up! For those of you interested in discussing the series, the link can be found on my profile!**

**Also, some quick trivia about this next one-shot. This is one of the first scenes that I ever created, thought of back when I was writing Merlin's Mist years ago. Several times I meant to include it in the series, but never had a place for it, so here it is now. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>R.A<p>

The wind whistled incessantly, the dirt and gravel whirling upwards in an irksome way. Reginald Ares heard his own footsteps crunch on the dirt road, and felt the chill of the wind course over his exposed neck, but he still managed to soak in his surroundings. Shanties littered his field of vision on both sides of the earthly path, the boarded up windows of the slums concealing the vast majority of the impoverished residents behind them. As he treaded forward slowly his gaze fell on an eldery man with a long white beard and a wrinkly, aggresive face, sitting just outside of his shack on a rocking chair. A firearm was stretched across his lap; a long one. Red made eye contact with him for a moment as he passed, and the muggle patted his rifle twice as if to intimidate.

Red rolled his eyes, but did nothing else. He owed it to Potter to not make a scene. His mentor had went to great lengths to acquire the information that had brought him here, and beyond that, he'd had to pull a few strings to allow Red leave to travel to the southern portions of the United States. What this link to his past was doing here Red didn't know, but he knew that Potter had warned him to be as professional as possible; this was not their country, not their Ministry, and most importantly, not their kind.

He pressed forward at the same pace, glancing up at the scattered clouds of the afternoon and feeling the light breeze encricle his robes. He was sure that his wizarding attire drew attention from the muggles, but none of them seemed to care long enough to let their glances linger. Only the old man continued to stare at him, but soon Red had progressed down the dirt road far enough so that the man was no longer in view. All thoughts of the quiet muggles around him evaporated as he reached the second to last house on the right however. He turned to face it, then stood still as a statue, eyeing the address on the worn out, rusted mailbox, and double checking in his head that it was the correct destination.

The shack was just as worn down as all of its neighbors, painted over in a red coat that looked as though it'd started to thin years ago. It was no bigger or smaller than any other home in the row of houses, but Red took note of a small pink trycicle leaning up against the side of the home; it was missing one of the back wheels. He felt his eyes narrow. Was there a child here?

He pushed his way passed a flimsy metal gate and walked up the stairs to the home. Taking a deep breath, he gave two booming knocks at the battered door.

It took only a few seconds for the door to slowly open, and Red was at first surprised to see no one there. It wasn't until he heard a light cough that he looked down and gazed upon the person who'd answered.

It was a little girl of around seven or eight, and she was filthy. There wasn't an inch of her face that didn't appear to be covered in dirt, and her once white dress was tattered and full of small stains that may have been from soup. Her straggly brown hair was tangled and fell down her back, and it was only when she scratched at her nose and a literal chunk of dirt fell off that Red realized that the girl hadn't been bathed in days, possibly even weeks.

He waited for the child to say something, but when she only continued to stare up at him aimlessly, he spoke first.

"Hello" he said, trying and failing to sound cheery. He'd never been good with children.

The girl said nothing, instead simply wiping snot away from her dress and dancing in place. Red realized that she wasn't wearing shoes.

"What's your name?" he asked with a mild bow of courtesy. Again, the girl said nothing. "May I please come in?" he asked.

This time, the girl obliged. She backed up, and Red caught side of an old, average sized teddy bear squeezed underneath one arm. The bear had been decapitated however; where its head should have been there was only an open wound and cluster of white stuffing. Red took a few steps forward and felt his lips curl into a frown.

The sitting room mde the girl look like a princess by comparison. The furniture was strewn about, some of it knocked over, all but the greying couch that had chunks missing from it due to moths. A busted television set sat in the corner of the room, and there were no pictures of personal trinkets to be seen, unless you counted the newspapers and flattened cardboard boxes that made up a carpet of sorts. There was a trail of broken glass immediately noticeable leading into a kitchen that was swarming with flies, but that otherwise looked barren of food. Red caught side of the teddy bear's head laying on the floor just next to an overturned chair.

The girl said nothing, instead looking up at him expectantly. Red cleared his throat before addressing her.

"Is your mother home?" he asked her.

"Mommy dead" she replied brokenly, and Red was taken aback by how sweet and smooth her voice sounded, despite its southern drawl; he'd expected it to be shrill and raspy.

"Is your father home?" he asked.

"He at work" she replied at once. Red rolled his eyes, wondering what occupation a peon could have that could possibly result in such an awful living space, but he said nothing on the matter. He was instead too busy trying to sort out what he was hearing. There had to be an adult woman here...Potter's information could not have been faulty.

It came to him in an instant.

"Is there any woman here? Someone _like _a mommy?"

The little girl's face darkened, but she slowly nodded her. Red created a loose hypothesis from this; her father had remarried, or at least taken a new woman in to live with. But was the woman in question...?

"Does the woman like your mommy have children of her own?" Red asked.

The girl shook her head vigorously, clutching the body of the stuffed animal tightly. Before Red could ask anything else, however, she'd elaborated on her answer.

"Not no mores" she said lightly, still shaking her head.

Red went to touch her gently, to bring her attention back to him, but the second that his fingers grazed her shoulder she flinched. Red recoiled his hand at once, and the girl fixed her dress so that it was positioned better on her shoulders; not before he had caught a glimpse of a purple contusion, however.

He felt his teeth bare, but he could not comment on it; that was not what he was here for. He was here to get answers. He pushed the thought from his head, and crouched down so that he was eye level with the girl.

"She had a child?" he asked tensely. "This woman who lives with you now?"

Slowly, the girl nodded her head. "Papa says-" she started, but then she broke off into silence.

"What?" Red asked her. "What does your father say?"

The girl said nothing, maintaining her silence while he stared at her. Right when he was about to ask again, she spoke.

"Papa says we not 'asposed to talk about it" she said, turning away and holding her headless bear up, as if to make it dance. She appeared to have lost interest in the conversation.

Unwilling to touch her and inflict harm, Red shuffled his feet to the side so that he was in view again.

"What?" he asked her once more. "What does your father say, it's okay, you can tell me."

He did not want to sound demanding, but it was very difficult to not lose control. He'd searched for so long...

"He- he- he reckon-"

"Yes?" Red asked intensely.

The girl swallowed before speaking. "He reckon she'd had a kid before, but she dun' throwed him away."

Red felt as though ice water had been splashed in his face. He tried not to let it show in his expression as he prodded further.

"Threw him away?" he asked. "You mean she..."

"Trash" the girl told him, emphasizing the last sound.

"She threw him away as a baby" Red repeated. "I see...and did your papa say if this boy had had a name?"

"He reckon she reckon she called him _Redge_" the girl said, enunciating the last word clearly.

"Reginald" he said, feeling his fingers flex. "His name was Reginald..."

An eerie silence filled the room following these words, and though Red was sure that the girl did understand the magnitude of those last few sentences, she certainly must have felt the atmosphere thicken, for she turned her head away from him and chose to preoccupy herself with her headless bear once more.

"And she is here, yes?" Red asked her suddenly. "The woman?"

The girl didn't look at him, instead only turning on the spot and pointing towards a shabby door just a few feet away from the kitchen.

"She's in there?" Red asked, and he started to lift himself up from his crouched position. Before he could do so however, the girl had moved forward as if to stop him. He ceased his movement at once, and when the girl got up close her putrid breath nearly made him faint.

"Papa said she _dangerous_" she whispered into his ear, giving him a knowing look as she recoiled.

Red stared at her boldly, then gave a single stroke to her tangled hair. "That's okay" he said sharply. "I'm dangerous too."

He rose up to his feet and walked right by the girl, his footsteps marked by the crunching of glass underneath his feet. As he neared the closed door he saw lights flickering through the crack at the bottom. Paying them no mind, he slowly pushed the door open and peered inside.

It was a bedroom, but the bed was stripped of sheets, pillows, and blankets, instead laying on the bedspring as a dirty mattress only. In front of the bed was a woman, and she was sitting in a wheelchair.

She was elderly; not quite as elderly as the man with the rifle, but enough so that her face looked guant and exhausted. She was slightly pudgy, with grey, mousy hair curled around the back of her neck, and she seemed to have trouble inhaling, as an oxygen cannula was pressed underneath her nostrils. Her heavy breathing seemed to coincide with the blinking of her dull grey eyes, which were fixated upon the source of light in the room; a large television set sitting firmly upon a table, the screen flickering and faint noise coming from it. She didn't appear to have noticed his entrance.

Red gazed at his mother up and down, his blood boiling more and more with every second that went by. This woman here, he reflected...this fragile woman here had thought _him _too weak to hold onto. Had thrown _him _away. He ogled her, wondering how in the world there could be anything remotely intimidating about her, but then he saw her wand. Brittle and withered, it sat on her lap, held loosely by a curled up hand.

Red opened the door further and stepped forward. As he walked he waved his hand, and the television set shut off at once, leaving the room in darkness except for the cracks of light coming through a boarded up window. This sudden change in lighting seemed to capture his mother's attention; her eyes flicked upwards, and when she saw him striding towards her, her fingers curled tightly around the wand on her lap-

Without uttering an incantation or so much as making a movement, the wand flew from her clenched fingers, landing firmly into Red's grasp. He held the wand up high with his right hand so that she could see it, then squeezed the center tightly, concentrating fiercely on a choice curse . The wand exploded into splinters in his hand, and he let them drop to the floor slowly, not removing his eyes from her for a single second. And then, in another moment, he was directly in front of her. He crouched down low, just as he had with the girl in the other room, and peered into his mother's fragile eyes.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked her, over the sounds of her deep breathing. "Do you know me?" he asked again, when she failed to answer. She slowly lowered her eyes, but Red grabbed her by the chin and pulled her face up. Her eyes bulged as they made contact with his own once more, the breathing now more rapid.

"Look at _me_" he demanded swiftly. "Look at my eyes. Do you know who I am?"

Nothing. She did nothing but look back at him, fear in her eyes, but nothing else.

"Do you not recognize my eyes?" he whispered menacingly, his fingers still gripped tightly around her chin. "Did you not look at them once, before you discarded me like rubbish?"

It happened in a split second. Her eyes did not widen or make any other discernible movement, but her entire face seemed to transform itself into one of understanding. And then, just like that, her fear became terror.

"Yes...good." He continued to peer into her eyes, still not relinquishing his grip on her face. "You can not speak, can you?"

He took her silence as a yes. There was a time, perhaps, when Reginald Ares would have been disappointed with the idea that he could not even ask his own mother questions about where it was he came from. But here he was, faced with that very prospect, and he counted himself fortunate. He would not even bother using Legilimancy here, because he knew now that there was no point. He had nothing to hear from this woman. Only things to say.

"You are frightened of me" he said as their eyes continued to dance together in the dim light of the room. "So you are more alert than I'd previously ascertained. Good...good."

He finally let go of her, but he stayed in his crouched position. He'd spent years piecing together things that he would say if ever found one of his biological parents, but his thoughts were escaping him now. The nature of the confrontation had changed things a great deal.

"Why do you think I've come to find you?" he asked, and though he was aware that she couldn't answer him, he still wanted to see the look on her face. To his surprise, she jerked her head down and to the left, indicating the pieces of her broken wand on the floor.

Red made the connection immediately.

"You think I'm here to kill you" he declared, and before she could do so much as nod her head, he sneered. "No, I'm not here to kill you" he told her. "You can thank my punctilious upbringing for that. It is not up to me to free you from this miserable existence that you've made of your life. That will happen in due time."

She didn't move, not even an inch. Instead she stared up at him, and when Red caught a flicker of relief in her eyes, he felt his body shake with ire.

"You will stay alive" he said, his voice quivering. "Just long enough to see my new world."

He allowed a proud smile to curl at his lips, and suddenly he felt himself almost brimming with excitement. He had told no one of his plans yet, no one, not even Potter, who was more family to him than this woman ever was. But she would be the first to know. It seemed only appropriate.

"This world is full of _filth_" he spat at her quietly. "Filled with _filthy people_, just like you. People who shun responsibility, people who ignore the things in life that truly matter, hedonists who bathe each other in their misdeeds and derive pleasure from the knowledge that other people will clean up their mess."

She narrowed her eyes at him, and only when she did this did he truly see that he'd inheritated her eyes; his were sharper and darker, and filled with more poise and intelligence, but they were the same shape, had the same sting to them when showing displeasure.

"In my world," Red went on, "parents like you will _never _be able to do to their children what you did to _me_. No child will be abandonded, not in my world. No issue will be neglected, no evil will be permitted. People like you can not and will not exist in my world, and as you all die off slowly, I will make sure that you see me rise and lead this world into something beautiful. I will let you see it, not so that you can take pride in what I do-oh no, none of that is yours-but rather so that you can see what your life could have been. So that you can see what it is that your son could have given you...if only you hadn't been a worthless fool."

He rose to his feet, and she followed him with her eyes, her breathing now akin to thunder. For a single, wild moment, he wondered what it was that she wanted to say, before realizing that he didn't care. Her opinion was nothing. He'd said what needed to be said, and that was all that there was to it.

He left the room and closed the door behind him, not caring to look back on the woman whose only worthwhile moment in life had been birthing him. The little girl was slumped up against a wall in her dirty dress, stroking her headless bear and whispering to it as if it was the safest place to keep her secrets. She looked up as he passed through the disheveled room, and he felt pity rise in his chest at the sight of her. As he reached the door she stared at him, and he beckoned her forward. She did so dutifully, holding the bear close and tip-toeing across the strewn about wreckage on the floor. As she neared him, he crouched down for the third time of the day.

Red tenderly placed his hands around her arms, and was relieved when he saw that she didn't wince in pain.

"Listen to me, child" he said, staring into her eyes. She looked back at him idly, still stroking her bear. "It is not my place to save you" he told her. "Not here, not now. Fate has assigned me a much greater task, and I can not accomplish by helping one here and there. But you must listen to me. Are you listening?"

She nodded, now hugging the bear close.

"This is not your life" he told her. He glanced around the disgusting room for a moment to show her what he was indicating. "This is not where you belong, you can be more than this. Fate does not abandon those who persevere long enough to meet its plan. Don't let anyone _ever _tell you that the most you can be is this, what you are here. Good things happen, not to people who wait for them, but to people who work for them. Don't you ever forget that this needn't be your life. You can have a better life than this, but only if _do_ _not give up_. Do you understand me?"

She nodded again. Red wasn't entirely sure if she really did understand him, but he could do little else for her. It was not up to him to save but this one girl. He thought of the three children who had died in Hogsmeade on that first day as an Auror, thought of how Potter had insisted that he hadn't failed, that it wasn't up to him to save every person in the world. And Red had agreed...it wasn't up to him to save everyone. It was up to him to ensure that such a savior was never needed. That is why fate had given him his life, and when he created that world, that was when this little girl would truly be safe, she and everyone else...

He stood and turned to leave, but at that very moment she tugged on his robes.

"Are you his brother?"

Reginald Ares turned around and looked down at her, his features hardening.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"His brother" she repeated. "Redge brother."

Red turned back to face her completely.

"A brother...what do you mean?"

"Papa says she din' just have one kid, she went and had 'nuther. She din' throwed him away though, she put him in the street."

"The street" Red said, his mouth thinning. "She put a baby in the street?"

The girl nodded, still hugging the bear close. "Papa says she reckon that she went back the next day, but he was gone. He says she- she reckon that he gon' come back one day, and kill 'er. Kill 'er good, she reckon she can feel it. Said he was a _nasty _baby."

But Red Ares was barely paying attention now. His heart was beating fast at the first thing she'd said.

"Reginald...had a brother..." he said, more to himself than to her. "Did this boy have a name? Did your father say if she gave a name?"

The girl opened her mouth wide, as if to ponder his question.

"Uhhhhhh yes" she said after a moment. "Said, said uh, said his name was See-bash-ton" she pronounced each syllable clearly.

"Sebastian" Red repeated, and suddenly he felt legs begin to wobble beneath him. A brother. He had a _brother_. He'd have to find him...he'd have to find him, so that they could create the new world together.

"Thank you for telling me that" Red told her, regaining his composure. He turned to leave once more, and just as he opened the door, he glanced back at her, a sad smile on his face. "And remember what I said."

The girl stared at him blankly, as though she'd already forgotten that he'd said anything. He wore his smile as he slowly closed the door behind him, but as the girl watched closely, she saw the man remove something thin from his clothes and flick it sharply, before the door was entirely closed.

She ran to the door and opened it again, but the man was already gone. When she turned around, she saw that the room was completely clean; the furniture fixed and organized, and walls spotless and television set no longer busted. And when she glanced down at her teddy, she saw his head firmly fixed onto his fluffy body, looking as good as new.


	12. CE

**Sorry this is so late in being posted; there's been a lot of problems logging in recently, and its severely halted a lot of uploading. I hope to have the re-edits of Dragonfang Wand up soon however, and until then, here's another one-shot. Thanks for reading,**

**-Kev**

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><p>C. E<p>

Footsteps echoed loudly through the dark corridor, wandlight bouncing off of the walls to reveal fleeting glimpses of still portraits. The pictures of Hogwart's past had scarcely moved as of late; they all seemed to have joined in with the sullen atmosphere that wafted around the castle, victims of the gloom. It was not that Hogwarts was an unsafe place; it was that it was an uncertain one.

But still, Charles Eckley had no problem walking its halls in the near darkness, his straw colored hair hanging loosely down over his eyes, his hard, yet boyish features focused on each and every step that he took. As a Prefect he'd trained himself to be alert and comfortable, and even with those days long behind him, the characteristics remained. His demeanor was one of the few things that hadn't been changed by the attack.

Flashes of memory scroched his retinas. He saw a long, scarlet engine laying in the snow, punctured by magic. Saw cloaks and masks surround him, saw his own wand raise in front of his eyes as he fought for his life. He saw Potter hanging in the sky, glowing a brilliant shade of gold, looking as though he was unstoppable; as though he wasn't even human.

_Potter. Where are you now?_

The attack on the Hogwarts Express had been about three weeks ago, and thus, that was how long Albus Potter had been missing. There wasn't much talk going on about it throughout the castle, not with more large scale issues going on. The security of the United Ministry had tightened, but there was nothing to suggest that it would linger that way, what with talks of Waddlesworth needing every available wizard and witch for some siege that hadn't even been fleshed out with the public. Broken families littered the castle now; students who'd lost siblings in the attack, parents who'd come to see their children with their own eyes. Professor Handit's memorial on the second floor was having something added to it every day now. And yet...

_Where are you, Albus? If you've gone and gotten yourself killed, you'll be thankful you can't die twice._

It was not with great satisfaction that Charlie thought those words, as his feet carried him down a flight of stairs that had been in the middle of rotating itself. He truly wanted no ill-will to be befall the Slytherin boy. It wasn't that Charlie disliked him at all, not anymore. It was that the kid had a way of just making himself so _damn unlikeable_. It would have been different if he'd be taken against his will; then Charlie could pity him like the others others who had no idea of his whereabouts. But Charlie knew the truth. Albus hadn't been taken, he'd _left_, albeit probably not in the way that he'd intended, but he'd left nonetheless.

_I'm waiting for someone_, Potter had said, standing hunched over in the snow, bleeding. And someone had scooped him up and Apparated him away after his collapse down to the ground. If the person who took him was the same person that Albus had planned on waiting for...then that would mean that he'd chosen to leave. _What a fool_, Eckley thought bitterly, _to leave someone like her behind_.

That was where he was going now. The castle was so fortified from external forces that there really weren't any regulations on when to go to sleep, or restrictions on where to wander, and even if there had been, the school was so chaotic now that it hardly would have mattered. And so it was a little past midnight when Charlie opened up the great doors that led to the grounds, his sights set on the giant lake, where he knew Mirra would be, skipping stones and either seething or sulking. It varied depending on the night.

Mirra was the only one really giving him information on the matter. Vincent and Malfoy-or Morrison and Scorpius, as he'd taken to calling them at this point, but old habits died hard-had been as tight lipped as possible on the whereabouts of their friend, but Mirra was always going on about the places that he could be, the danger that he was in, what it was he was trying to do. Some nights she was sure that he was seeking out Waddlesworth on some highly unlikely agreement; other nights, her boyfriend was so crazy that he was trying to break his father out of Azkaban. Many a time Charlie had tried to convince her that even Albus wasn't that foolish, but nothing would get through to her.

He told himself that it was strictly out of friendship that he was going to comfort her; that he knew how badly she needed support right now. And besides, he was one of the few people in this castle that was actually trying to maintain calm and sort things out. He, a few older students, and the professors had taken it upon themselves to voice that they were available for help at any time, and Mirra most certainly needed his help now, as she did most nights.

But he also knew that he was, at least partially, lying to himself. As good as it felt to talk Mirra through her concerns, it also felt damn good to have his arm around her shoulders again.

He mosied along the grassy slopes, the moonlight now serving to aid his vision much better than his wand. His body had fully recuperated from the damage that it'd taken during the assault, but he still hadn't quite regained his confident stride. It didn't matter though; his pace slowed when he saw her silhouette hunched up near the edge of the lake, feet dangling in the water and curtain of black hair dancing around her shoulders.

Charlie approached her cautiously, though he made sure to make enough noise as he was coming so that he wouldn't spook her. When he finally took a seat in the dirt next her, she turned and gave him a weak smile.

"Back again, huh?" he said to her.

"Yup" Mirra replied lamely, skipping another stone across the water; everytime he saw it, Charlie was fasnicated by how accomplished she was at it, despite how trivial of an ability it was. "I see you're back again too" she went on.

"Yup" Charlie replied. "Getting fond of this place."

This wasn't untrue. The scene was a beautiful one, and Charlie had become rather accustomed to it in the last few weeks, but admittedly, he failed to see just how significantl it was for the girl next to him. She seemed to come to the lake as though it were a sanctuary, and Charlie had been unwilling to inquire as to any sympathetic attachments that she might have to it.

"Couldn't sleep again?" he asked.

"I got an hour or two" Mirra replied. "Got woken up by Rose though" she added softly.

"Why?"

"She didn't wake me up directly" Mirra told him. "I fell asleep in the Common Room, and she was arguing with Donny."

Charlie cringed. He didn't know anyone who _wasn't _arguing with Donny recently. Since the ordeal with the train, Donny's adamence to rally support for the United Ministry had increased tenfold, which was peculiar, as many people were now questioning Waddlesworth's actions in declaring war against a foe that could so easily be destructive. But Donny seemed to relish in it, insisting that now more than ever support was important, and things had only gotten worse when his father had shown up to whisper in his ear. Mr. Hornsbrook was gone now-his stay had only been temporary-but the effect of it had lingered greatly on Charlie's friend, and even the castle as a whole..

Indeed, there even seemed to be some turmoil against the inner workings of Waddlesworth's lot. The Protector's Club was still active, but sections of it had splintered off from the new directions that Professor Malfoy had started to lead them in. From what little Charlie had heard, Larson was now promoting something that didn't even appear on Waddlesworth's agenda. Some students had latched on to his ravings, and Charlie was sure that for many of the younger students-like Rose's younger brother Hugo, for instance-it was extremely confusing to have so many different routes to take, espcially when, on the surface, they all seemed to similar.

"Don't worry about Donny" Charlie told her, dismissing it with a wave of the hand. "I'm sure that he wasn't trying to get Rose to join up with anything, he's just-"

"I'm not worried about Donny" Mirra cut him off, turning to face him. "You know what I'm worried about."

Charlie gave a slight sigh. He knew that the conversation would turn to this, but he supposed that in many ways, it was his fault. He'd always been the one to bring up her boyfriend during these talks, and now, it seemed, Mirra wasn't eager to prattle on about things that were on neither of their mind's, not when they both knew what the trouble was.

"Worrying isn't going to change anything, we went over this" Charlie said, and then, before he knew it, his left arms was around her shoulder. To his immense surprise, she cradled her head against him, and though it was done as friendly as possible, Charlie still felt his body give the lightest of shudders.

"It's not so much worrying anymore" she insisted. "It's more of a- a curiosity, I guess. I'm just curious as to what was going through his head, or what he's thinking now."

With her other hand, she grasped the silver chain that hung about her neck, the metal that Charlie knew was a locket given to her Potter. It was, he had to admit, a pretty little thing.

Careful not to be too aggresive with it, Charlie shrugged his shoulders, feeling her head shift as he did so. "The more that you try and think of what he's thinking, the more confused it's going to make you" he told her. "The best thing that you can do is wait, trust me on that one. There's been no bad news, and that's a good sign."

"Before he left, I overheard Donny's dad saying that they were going to be looking for him" Mirra said. "But they didn't say why or anything...is it unusual that they'd have a search party out for one teenager?"

"For Harry Potter's son? Not at all."

"Albus' dad is in Azk-"

"-but he's still a piece of history. And Albus has other family in the United Ministry too. Rose's dad is in there, right? I'm sure that they're hard at work at finding him."

Charlie wasn't even sure if he was lying or not; he had conflicting opinions on the matter. He wished he didn't have to stretch the truth with her, but he lacked the gentle nature of his brother, Clyde, who'd always had a way with soothing others, and had a caring heart as well. Charlie remembered one day from his childhood, when he and his brothers had been playing in the woods near their home, and had ended up finding an injured Unicorn. Christopher, his eldest brother, had insisted on contacting the Department of Magical Creatures, and Carl, the second youngest next to Charlie, had simply stated that there was nothing to be done. But Clyde had convinced Charlie to help him with tending to the creature, and together, they'd healed it up a great deal.

Charlie felt as though he desperately needed that kind of compassion now, but sadly, he just wasn't able to do much more than sit there next to her, her head resting on him, his legs stretched out beneath him, somehow both comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time.

"I know you really miss him" Charlie said lowly.

"I do" Mirra replied. "I do miss him, and I do want him here, but I- I can't explain it. I want him here so that I know he's safe, and then I also want him here so I can _wring his neck_."

Charlie came very close to quipping that he and her had a lot in common, but it just didn't feel appropriate. And besides, as icy as her tone had been, he knew that it was primarily just frustration speaking. And still...

"Why do you even like him so much anyway?"

The question fell from his lips just as he was struggling to hold more sarcastic comments back, and he immediately wished that he could trade them. He'd wondered what the appeal was of Potter; wondered it since third year, when Mirra had sat him down privately and admitted to him that she was sorry, but that she had feelings for someone else. He rememberd thinking then the same things that he thought now. Potter wasn't very attractive; average looking, to be honest, and as far as Charlie knew, he wasn't a particularly skilled wizard anyway. He was fairly certain that the Slytherin couldn't even Apparate, and he was also confident that in a one-on-one, he'd be able to take the kid with ease, bar any abberations like what had happened the day that the train was attacked.

Of course, he could see that maybe his personality wasn't so bad; he'd certainly gotten better over the years, and now seemed a bit more mature. Charlie was especially thankful of how easily he'd been welcomed into their compartment that one day, after a particularly nasty row with Donny. But then Potter ended up turning around and doing something like _this_. Putting his girlfriend through ordeals that no girl-especially not one like Mirra-should ever have to go through.

For a few moments, he worried that she was angry with him for his question; she'd maintained a stony silence since he'd asked it. But once he realized that her head was still on his shoulders, he asked her a follow-up.

"You don't even know, do you?"

"I do" she responded at once. "It's just hard to explain."

"Give it a go, then" Charlie urged her, hoping to catch her off guard. But then she took her head from his shoulder and looked directly at him.

"I don't know if I can word it right" she said. "But it's just- I know he doesn't always make the right decisions. In fact, I know that he rarely does. But I still- I guess- I guess I also just know that no one _struggles_ with them more than he does. He may be wrong often, but when he is, I know that he always feels guilty afterward."

"Then you'd think he'd stop doing stupid stuff then" Charlie said, giving her a grin that he hoped padded his words. Thankfully, she smiled back.

"I know" she said. "But the thing about Albus is that- that- because he's so confused, I know it takes a lot of effort for him sometimes, and he shows it. But he's a good person, I know he is. It's weird, but I just know that wherever he is now, and whatever he's doing, I know that-somehow, I just know-that he's not doing it for himself. Even if it's completely wrong and idiotic and no one else wants him to, I know that he's doing it for me, or his father, or his friends, or even for all of us. He's way more of a protector than you might think. I swear" she added, as if these words were the deciding case in the argument.

Charlie said nothing at first, allowing her explanation to swirl around in his head. Just as it was starting to make sense to him, Mirra's grey eyes pierced his own, and she continued.

"He's a lot like you, in some ways" she said. "But different. Like what you do now, here, shouldering so much responsibility, and patrolling the halls, and helping the professors and the parents... he couldn't do that. He's not a leader, like you. But he's not a follower either. If he was here, he'd definitely try and help...but just in- in a different way. In an Albus way."

"I'm not doing much here" Charlie said sheepishly, suddenly turning a little red.

"Yes you are" she corrected him at once. "Even if you don't realize it, you're keeping Hogwarts like _Hogwarts_. Everything's so chaotic...the United Ministry is acting like they have everything under control, but I know that people are furious as to how Waddlesworth handled everything with the attack on the train. And I know Larson plans on leaving the castle soon, and he's going to take students with him, I just know it. But the people here who don't follow either, the ones who just want that feeling of security that you can get from Hogwarts...they use you as an example, I know they do."

"They don't really have much else at this point-"

"You both do that" Mirra cut him off with a wry smile. "When I try and give a compliment, both you and Albus have no idea what I'm talking about. But believe me, you're one of the only people here who's really keeping things organized, and really bringing comfort when there's not a lot to be given. You're doing as much as the professors are, and Headmistress McGonagall, and that says a lot. Even with Hogwarts the way it is now, you're still representing your house. You're being brave, and bold; people see you as a lion, I know they do."

_A lion_. All of Charlie's brothers had been sorted into Gryffindor house, Carl having left just before his first year. Charlie had always considered his brothers to be great examples of the magnificence of Gryffindor house. Had he become one of those examples himself?

"I love Albus" she said, and those three words snapped his concentration at once. "And with him gone," she went on, "everything just feels different; everything feels a little worse, no matter what it is. I'm so thankful that you're here to try and numb it all, to make things so much better than they should be. Everyone is, I know it."

And with that, she laid her head back on his shoulder, and his arm snaked its way around her again. He could feel her trembling a bit next to him, and suddenly, he started reading into her words. She had just said that she loved Potter. A stupid thing for a seventeen year old girl to say, he was sure, but how did he know? How did he know what feelings they had for one another?

_Or was she just saying that to see what I'd do?_

The thought struck him so quickly that his stomach lurched. Slowly, he removed his arm from around her and shifted his weight. He swallowed fiercely and felt his body jolt in anticipation of what he was going to do. He shifted his weight-

And then he rose to his feet, her head sliding off of him and glancing up with interest as he did so.

"You should get some sleep" he told her. _That was a close one,_ he thought to himself. "A few hours doesn't cut it. I'll walk you back."

But she stayed on the ground, wearing an impassive expression. "I'm just going to stay here a bit longer" she insisted. "But I'll be along."

"You sure?" he asked her, still mulling over how difficult it had been to control his impulses.

"I'm sure" she said, giving him a pretty smile. "Thanks for stopping by again" she added.

"Sure thing" he replied straightly. "Just...just try and get some sleep tonight."

She nodded, and before anything else could happen, he'd already turned on his heel to walk back across the grass, beginning his ascent up the slopes. He tried fighting off half of what had just happened. His desire to kiss her had been fleeting, but it had been enough to make him get out of there; he was not going to sink to such a level where he moved in on Potter's girlfriend when he was missing and, though it felt terrible to think it, probably grievously hurt or dead. Even if the girl in question was Mirra.

_Especially if she's Mirra_, he realized, as he headed for the castle, fighting off the powerful temptation to turn back around, or to even look over his shoulder.


	13. Author's Note 5 Book 7 summary

**Hello readers!**

**Vekin87 here, posting this note to give you guys a little rundown of what's been going on.**

**First off, the refurbishment of Dragonfang Wand is complete, and the entire story has been reposted. "Project Grammar" has been a very slow process, and I hope to explain why here. A few weeks ago (or possibly even more than a month ago) this site was having extreme login trouble. While the problem seemed to be universal, for me and a few others it would seem, the issues persisted. Not only I was only able to login successfully about 5% of the time, but I was also unable to even upload anything. Having done some experimentation on the computers at my school (I was only able to upload things like one-shots and re-edited chapters while I had class), I've been able to deduce that the biggest problem seems to be the browser that I was using, Internet Explorer. I have recently used a college refund check to purchase a laptop however, where I will be sure to have a more up-to-date browser for my publishing needs. So I'm sorry for the inconvenience of my slow movement during this hiatus thus far, but it was one of those "oh, it will resolve itself" issues that actually never really resolved itself. In fact, I still have trouble logging in and posting, and am actually uploading this from my grlfriend's laptop now (she has Google Chrome).**

**That being said, however, the slow movement of my hiatus has led to some issues. I originally planned on editing my first 4 books, but I think that, as I want to be able to focus on Book 7, I may stop after 3. Dark Alliance will most likely be edited after the series is finished; I think it can wait, as the editing wasn't THAT bad starting from around book 4. Also, I had a bunch of one-shots that I wanted to post, but again, due to time constraints, I've had to limit them. So far you've seen a second Blackwood scene, an Ares scene, and an Eckley scene. I will probably end up posting only one more during the hiatus, and it will probably be a third Blackwood scene. You guys may be wondering why I even bother with a character with such little importance at this point in the series, but honestly, Ida is a character that I've always felt I introduced a bit too late and got rid of a bit too early, and alot of her story is important to understanding the way that WAR functions, especially how they manipulated new recruits back during their first rise to power. So yeah, expect a new one-shot, and expect it to probably be from Blackwood.**

**And now, I have some big news, and it's news that I'm a little frightened of telling you guys, as it actually involves me going back on a promise a bit, but I want to be honest with my readers. During this hiatus, when I've had so little involvement in my series due to technical issues, alot of my ideas for original work have really flourished. I've always planned on writing a fantasy series of my own after Albus Potter, and in these last few weeks, I've really gotten alot of thinking done. Albus Potter remains my top priority, but I feel that it's necessary to tell you that Albus Potter and the War Within with probably be written concurrently along with the first book of my original series.**

**This may seem a little frightening, as I expect many of you will expect one piece of work to take preference over the other, but personally, I don't think there will be any negative reprecussions to it. A huge chunk of Albus Potter has been written while in school, especially college, and I've frequently been writing up essays and even short stories for fiction classes while juggling Albus Potter at the same time. In fact, I expect that if I hadn't told you guys that I plan on doing original work on the side, you probably wouldn't notice any change in style from Book 7, especially as my original work is in a wayyy different setting, and written in a much different way as well.**

**Many of you have asked what my plans are for original work, or insisted that I write other things, and I'm fairly certain you won't be disappointed with what I have brewing. For those of you interested in my original work, I'll give you guys a very small synopsis here, but if you're skimming this note raging over the lack of Book 7, scroll down for some info on War Within. The series that I have brewing in my head (and have had in there for awhile, actually) is called_ The Cadaver's Dagger_, and it focuses primarily on a cursed blade that grants immortality to whoever's heart that it pierces. Set in a fictional world akin to the likes of Ancient Egypt or Persia, the first in the series, entitled _The Black Queen_, focuses on the rotating perspectives of the many individuals who seek the Dagger; whether it be for immortality, riches, or even political influence. The cast of characters is wide and varied, and I hope to tell the story in such a way so that it's extremely difficult to really pick one character to succeed more than any other; if you thought that the cast of my Albus Potter series is morally ambiguous, wait until you meet some of these people. Obviously, I'm not going to spoil much now, and this series is nowhere near as developed as Albus Potter, but I do have enough to begin writing it, even if it does take a backseat to Book 7.**

**And speaking of Book 7, the book IS still coming, and I still have very intention of closing this series out properly. Though I haven't written any chapters yet, I have drawn up plot outlines, and hope to begin working on it soon. I confess that the prospect of both midterms and finals adds a few variables to when the bulk of the writing will take place, but I still plan on having the majority of Book 7's writing process down in the summer. So while I still can't give you guys an exact release date (that will probably be next author's note), I can give you the official inside-the-flap-jacket-summary of _Albus Potter and the War Within_! So here it is:**

* * *

><p><em><strong>The Wizarding World is in pieces. A war within a war has started, a product of the chaos created by the fall of the United Ministry. As once proud leaders like Waddlesworth slink into obscurity, new factions of Renegades have sprouted up throughout the public, feuding over territory, control, and even responsibility. Unity is dead.<strong>_

_**Undeterred from the removal of his army, Death's Right Hand continues to prowl the outskirts of the fighting, with a desire to reconstruct his forces of the undead tied to his constant movement. Using the cloak of civil war to shroud him, Sebastian Darvy aims to strike right when the world is at it's weakest, though before he can do such a thing, at least one young wizard still understands the priority of his defeat.**_

_**Already forced to grow up too fast, Albus Potter finds his actions directly influencing the events of the war. Resigned to remove Darvy's sources of power and ultimately end the bloodshed brought about his terror, Albus takes the wayward path through the ruins of the world, forced to utilize every skill that he learned under the tutelage of Sancticus Fairhart. Between creating makeshift alliances, tracking former Dark Alliance members for information, and fighting his way through war torn streets, Albus aims to deliver the final blow to the adversary of the entire wizarding world. But with his father following behind him, his friends a step ahead, and his conscience battling him every step of the way, he'll soon have to realize that sometimes great sacrifices are needed to end great battles, and that in all forms of war, there are things more important than winning.**_

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><p><strong>So that's that! I hope that this little taste of Book 7 has kept you guys interested, despite the somewhat lackluster hiatus so far. I desperately wish that I could draw something other than stick figures, to give you guys a book cover or something, but as I can't, I'll just tell you to picture a scene in your heads; Albus hiding behind a damaged car (yes, the scene takes place on a muggle street) while his father, Aunt Hermione, and Uncle Ron have their wands brandished, another car raised into the air magically to be thrown at scrambling (unidentifiable) Renegades.<strong>

**So there you have it, the end of the note. Again, I'm sorry for the slow movement, and I'm especially sorry if anyone feels betrayed even in the slightest by the news that I'll be doing original work on the side; but to be honest, I feel that if I DON'T write it, the extra ideas will end up interfering with Albus Potter. If anyone has any questions about either my Albus Potter series or my original work, feel free to ask on the forum, and I will get back to you as soon as possible, or you can even send a private message if you like. Readers are also encouraged to use the forum to communicate with other readers, and don't forget that there's also an official facebook page that you guys can like to stay a bit more up-to-date with my author's notes and the like.**

**Once again, thanks to everyone for their readership and their continued support, and I hope to have more to give you all soon,**

**-Kev**


	14. IB 3

I.B. 3

"Try and calm yourself, you're showing weakness."

"Nothing about me is weak," Ida responded, though she could hear the trepidation in her voice. "I'm ready."

"Your posture is stooped," San said, "and this makes you look as though you are not confident in your own abilities. You are blinking furiously as well; excessive blinking will lead to an opening for attack-"

"Okay, okay, I get it!"

It was not often that she snapped at the scarred man; only when his pontifications became more insulting than beneficial. Ida Blackwood walked alongside him silently, mulling over his words in her head, trying to cling to the most important things that he'd told her. _Show confidence_, he'd said. Often times, Sancticus Fairhart claimed, it was the wizard or witch who expected to win, that came out on the better end of a contest. This wasn't exactly a formal duel that they were heading to, of course, but it was similar enough so that the advice was noted.

They were in a shabby wizarding dwelling, the row homes blending seamlessly into one another in a series of grey brick of arched tops. The moon was out, illuminating the path ahead of them, and Ida was taking two quiet strides for every one of her mentor's. She could not have been more pleased with the pairing for her first assignment; it had been San who had brought her to Warren, and San who had vouched for her passion to be a Renegade. And after weeks of seminars and stories, and learning practical spellwork, even, she was prepared to enter the field.

San had taught her how to use a wand effectively, and she could think of no better instructor. For someone of his considerably young age he proved to be extremely prodigious, but it was his experience that set him apart. Only Zydrunas had completed more assignments than San, but it was for a different reason, she knew, that Warren had paired her with him.

"Warren thinks I'm going to fail" she whispered blandly.

"What makes you think that?" San asked, turning to her for a moment; his mangled face came into view sharply, momentarily frightening her. She still wasn't _quite_ used to it.

"Zydrunas has historically left behind stragglers, I've heard" she responded grimly. "Warren doesn't want the same happening to me; he thinks that you'll keep a better eye on me."

"Everyone at WAR is expected to carry their own weight, and you are no different" San replied, assuredly. "Yes, the Hammer is not known for his tendencies to ensure the safety of his companions, but Warren may also expect you to naturally perform better with me by your side; and performance is everything."

Ida swallowed, then nodded her head. She had no idea what expectations the leader of Wands and Redemption had for her, but whatever they were, she did not want to disappoint them. She'd never met a man that she wanted to please more; Warren reached out to her and touched on aspects of her life like no one else ever had. It had been he who had consoled her when she'd retold the tale of her murdered parents, and he who had assured her that WAR would be the substitute family that she desired. And it had been Warren who had placed total confidence in her, and had told her that she would be an invaluable asset to their revolution. San believed in her too, she knew, but it was in a different way. He believed that she was a capable witch, whose tenacity and potential would combine to make her a dangerous member of WAR. She wasn't sure which she preferred overall, but she knew that right now, she was leaning on San's confidence.

"Has anyone ever been- been kicked out of WAR before?" she asked tensely, as they rounded the corner. San was distracted for a moment, eyeing the houses and their addresses, apparently, but when he turned to her, it was with a wry smile that contorted his already horrific face.

"Warren has no interest in sending his Renegades away" he said. "Better that they continue to perform poorly here, than run off and join Potter's new ministry."

"You said that you didn't mind Harry Potter" she spoke up.

"I don't" he answered her. "I don't know him, but what I know _of _him suggests that he is a wise and gifted leader—unusually bright, I may even say. But those around him are less appealing, to be quite honest. He has not constructed a new Ministry of Magic, he has rehashed an old one, tweaking it in light of the mistakes made during the war with Voldemort. In rounding up the leftover Death Eaters, however, he will be equally as ineffective. He lacks the cold nature necessary to punish those who have a substantial amount of evidence against them, and too frequently sacrifices the little fish for the big catch, when often, it is the little fish with the least to lose, and who are most likely to repeat their behavior. His Ministry flourishes, however, because of its support. WAR serves propaganda, it is true, but it is necessary to alert the public that they have better options than joining a branch of law enforcement that serves temporary solutions anyway."

Ida nodded, consuming his words like food. She knew of no one—not even Warren—who could piece-by-piece explain something as well as San could. She'd seen Warren _convince _others, sure, seen him persuade them, but he often appealed to their emotions, she knew. Just the other day a new batch of potential recruits had entered, and one of them—a young man who went by the surname Rancely—had spoken up about his conflicted thoughts on the issue of using torture as a means of gathering information. She'd watched as Warren had told him that he was at perfect liberty to leave, insisting that it was indeed a difficult heuristic to adhere to; but also told him that when it was his loved ones who were hurt or killed, it would be the necessary tactic to bring the Death Eaters to justice. After inquiring as to whether or not the health of criminals, or the justice of his loved ones was more important, the man had not moved an inch.

"We're here," San spoke up, rousing her from her thoughts.

He had indeed stopped walking. Ida stopped alongside him, looking up at a house identical to all of the others next to it. Ida gripped her wand firmly through the pocket of her robes, her hands already sweaty. She felt herself start to shake, but when she looked to her left, she saw that San was standing still, as aloof as possible. His wands were dangling lamely at his sides, his wand not even drawn.

"How do we- how do we go about this?" she asked.

"First," he said, his dark hair blowing in the wind, "we go over the assignment. Who are our targets?"

"Selwyn and Stout" she replied at once.

"There are many Death Eaters named Selwyn" said San. "What is his first name?"

"Darius" she claimed firmly.

"His appearance?"

"Photographs show him to have long black hair, possibly cut short by now. A distinctive scar above his right eye, and a fat nose."

"Anything else?"

"Just- just very ugly, I gsuppose" she answered breathlessly.

He seemed to ponder it for a second. "I accept that" he said after a moment. "Now, who else is likely to be with them?"

"I-I-I don't know" she admitted, ashamed.

"That's right, you don't. So you mustn't expect to only encounter two individuals. Expect more, and be thankful if the scouting proved entirely correct. And do we ask questions before attacking?"

"Never" she replied.

San stared at her for a long moment, the moonlight shining down into his face. Three times now since they'd met she had asked him what had happened to his face, and all three times he'd given her a different answer. She'd learned to stop asking, but sometimes—often, even—she found herself still terribly curious.

"Was your face- did- did that happen during an assignment for WAR?"

"No," he said plainly, turning away from her. "Brace yourself now."

He stepped forward and walked casually up the stone stairs, Ida following along after him dutifully. She watched as he removed his wand from his robes and aimed it at the door. She waited for him to unlock it, and her anticipation made the blast of light extremely unpredictable.

At the next moment, her mind went blank. She heard a yell, and then a few subsequent screams, but the next thing that she'd seen San had wiped his wand through the air; there was an explosion by the wall, and then smoke filled the room. Ida staggered through it blindly, nearly tripping over a sitting room table, and raised her own wand against a shrieking, shadowy figure in the smoke.

"_Stupefy!_" she cried, and the jet of red light knocked into the person's stomach. When Ida stepped over them, she saw that she'd stunned a young woman; someone's wife or daughter. She heard a manly growl from her left, and went to slash her wand sharply in the general direction, but before she could even concentrate on a hex or curse, a streak of fiery orange light connected with the shape. The man gave a growl of agony and toppled over, and when Ida looked, she saw San standing beside her. He wiped his wand and the smoke cleared, revealing a disheveled sitting room complete with an overturned table, a chair reduced to splinters, and shards of glass that may have come from decorations of some kind, spilled out onto the moss colored carpet.

"Check him" San said hoarsely, and Ida kneeled down to look at the screeching man, who was clutching his ribs frantically, howling in pain.

"This is Stout" she said, recognizing his face from her records.

"Kill him" San said offhandedly, going over to check the identity of the woman. "We're here to speak to Selwyn."

"Just- just kill him?" Ida asked, over the man's blaring shouts.

San didn't even bother answering her, instead kneeling down to examine the woman that she'd stunned. Momentarily perturbed, she stood up and aimed her wand down at the flailing man. She'd never killed before. Since that night in the pub, she'd never really been in such a situation. That night had been a night for her to kill those who'd ruined her life, however. Those who had taken what she loved from her. She didn't even know this man…

Warren's words of encouragement cropped into her head. _I see something special in you, Ida. You will make your parents proud. Make _me _proud_.

She squinted her eyes as she aimed the wand downward. Without even thinking, she uttered the curse. "_Avada Kedavra!" _

The streak of green light silenced Stout's howls. Ida stared down at his unmoving body, her fingers suddenly numb. She felt lost in thought, though what she was thinking, she wasn't quite sure. All that she knew was that at the next moment, San had grabbed on to her shoulders, fiercely wheeling her around.

"If there's others in the house, they'll have heard" he said. "Let's find them."

Ida nodded stupidly, not even bothering-or perhaps simply too frightened-to ask what had become of the girl she'd stunned. The next second she was following San out of the sitting room and into a cozy hall, and then, at the next second, her partner had kicked in the door of a bedroom. Ida glanced at the spacious area for only a moment before San had whipped his wand into the air. She felt a peculiar sensation sweep up her body, but before she could even register it, San had slammed the door shut.

"Clear" he announced quickly, and he led her down further in the hall, passing by two more doors before they entered a brightly lit room that appeared as though it were a kitchen-

"_Confringo!"_

The cry came from the side, followed by a tremendous force that she couldn't see. Ida tried ducking down, but there was no need; San's wand had flown upwards, deflecting the Blasting Curse into the ceiling. Bits of drywall of wood crumbled atop them, falling and shattering to pieces on the floor and the counter, both of which were decorated with the same emerald and silver designs. Ida reacted at once, flinging her wand to the left and concentrating as much as she could on the Full Body-Bind Curse. The sound a of a body falling over told her that she'd been successful.

San wiped his wand horizantally again, and the dust and debris throughout the kitchen scattered, leaving only a motionless man on the floor, his wand inches from his immobilized fingers. One look at him and Ida had identified him as Darius Selwyn; their primary target.

His black hair was indeed shortened, falling in small curls over his forehead. He wore his night time robes; clothing of a bright green, with a serpentine design running through. And one look at his wide open eyes showed that he was petrified, a noticeable mark just under his right brow.

She watched as San bent over and scooped up Selwyn's wand. Pointing his own at it, he mumbled something, resulting in a terrible s_nap_, then dropped the two pieces to the floor. "Restore him" he said next.

Ida did as she was told, waving her wand almost lazily. She was sure that her countercurse had worked, but the man on his own kitchen floor seemed in no particular hurry to get up. Slowly though, though, inch by inch, he stood on his own feet.

San slashed his wand sharply, and Selwyn was knocked temporarily into the air, flying back five feet and colliding with the wall. He gave a yell of pain, but fell silent when San advanced on him.

"Darius Selwyn," San started coldly, "you stand here accused of involvement with several Death Eater attacks-"

"Cleared!" cried Selwyn suddenly, and Ida noticed that his legs were shaking. "No charges against me, not anymore!"

Ida saw San narrow his eyes, though of course, one of them was almost permanently fixed as such anyway. "What names did you give up to Potter?" he asked calmly.

"Many!" Selwyn said, breathing in relief at how he was now being asked a question, rather than attacked. "I- I- I- I listed Ganly, Nott, Carver, Curder-"

"You shouldn't have given up so many" San told him pointedly. "You stil owe WAR names, and we only want those aren't safe behind bars."

Selwyn's entire body was now shaking. Sweat dripped down from his black hair as he spoke. "I- I did more than give up names," he said randomly, "I served my time! Six months in Azkaban-"

"For murder" San said.

"No! No, not true! I was- I was cleared of those! I was _present_, but I served as a witness, I killed no one-"

San pushed him gently up against he wall with the hand that wasn't holding his wand, and Ida, suddenly aware of the situation, raised her own; though she doubted that she'd need it. Selwyn looked close to fainting.

"You come from a family of Death Eaters" Sand said suddenly; it was a statement, not a suggestion. "For two full wars your family-generations of you-served Voldemort in his reigns of terror. You have two cousins currently missing. Where are they?"

Selwyn stared blankly. "I- I don't know-"

"One of your cousins was responsible for the assault on a wizarding dwelling that led to the consequent torture and murder of innocent people. Do you see this girl here?" he asked suddenly, and Ida blinked foolishly, unsure if she'd heard correctly.

"I- yes-" said Selwyn, after a moment, his eyes flickering her way.

"She watched as her parents were slaughtered by Death Eaters that had taken over that dwelling; killed in part due to the actions of one of _your_ cousins. She _watched_. She is older now, and seeks redemption for her inability to act; but you stall it."

Ida looked at him in amazement, her wand still raised. Her mind was racing for several reasons, and she couldn't even organize them properly. She hadn't even known about the involvement of this man's family in her parent's deaths-how had San? And she had never told him exactly of what she'd witnessed either-how had he known such a thing? And lastly, and for some reason this bothered her the most, he'd called her a "girl".

Selwyn was fidgeting about now, still pinned to the wall by San's hand. "I dont know what-"

"If you can not tell us where your cousins are, how are we to attain retribution for their crimes? If you can not aid us in our endeavors, why should we consider _your c_rimes paid?"

"Because I did!" Selwyn shrieked. "I gave names, I served time! I stood before them, all of them, the Minister himself, and Potter, and Weasley, and Potter's apprentice, Red or whatever, I have _nothing _to give you! Potter cleared me!"

She saw San's face harden. "Do I look like Harry Potter?" he asked softly.

She could practically hear Selwyn's heartbeat. he shook his head back and forth slowly, openly sobbing now. "I don't know what you want" he said. "I can't give you anything I _don't know_. I'm sorry," he squealed, looking over at Ida, and she felt her guard fall, "I can't help you..."

San stared at him, his mangled face blank. "Then what do you have to say for yourself?" he asked.

Selwyn's tears were falling freely down his face. "What do you want from me? Bad things- sometimes bad things just happen, okay!" he moaned piteously.

Ida watched as San grabbed him by the neck and threw him up against the wall forcefully, his fingers clenched around his thoat. She was certain that this was the end of it; that San would have to acknowledge their dead end, but then she saw him raise his wand to Selwyn's face.

"That's right," he said coldly,"bad things just happen."

"No! Wait-" Selwyn started.

The bolt of green light scorched his face. Ida watched as he slid down the wall and out of San's grip, ending up as a bundle of flesh on the floor, slouched and lifeless. San stepped back and pocketed his wand, then turned abruptly to leave.

But Ida couldn't move. Her heartbeat had quickened as he'd walked by, and her skin suddenly felt warm. She felt her knees grow weak, and her face burn red. She could not quite say why, but she was aroused.

* * *

><p><strong>Hello readers! Just writing this to apologize for the lateness of this one-shot, and to let you know that it will be the last one posted. As I'm currently finishing up the spring semester, I plan on getting to work on Book 7 soon; the next author's note you see should be the last before War Within, and should include the release date.<strong>

**In the meanwhile, though, I have an important announcement to make. Project Grammar has ended somewhat prematurely. Though the first two books are completely edited, Book 3 has only just started, but recently, somone managed to convert the first 4 books to pdf format, which I know that a LOT of people have been asking me about. I plan on figuring out to how post the files to my profile (be on the lookout for them!) and, hopefully, books 5 and 6 will be converted as well. Now, you should be able to read my series on the go! However, as books 3 and 4 were converted without the changes, I've decided it best to leave all versions similar-one day, after Book 7, I am sure, I will have them all edited and converted. Sadly, I'm still trying to figure out how to post pdf files to the site; until then, however, anyone who would like the first four books (any or all of them) and later the fifth and sixth, feel free to email me at vekin87(at)hotmail(dot)com with your request, and I will send them along as soon as I can! **

**But for now, be on the lookout for the converted books here on the site as well (hopefully), and know that Book 7-though sadly not my ultimate priority right now-is still planned and on its way, hopefully to still be finished by this summer, or at LEAST completely posted by the end of this year. It's been a terrible hiatus, I know, what with the technical difficulties and school being a problem, but I can only ask and be thankful for your continued support. As always, you can contact me through private messaging, the official facebook page, or the forum, and I look forward to finishing the series with you all soon! Thanks again, as always, for reading,**

**- Kev**


	15. Author's Note 6

**Hello, dear readers.**

**Vekin87 here, dropping by to let you guys know a few things that have been going on, all related to, as I'm sure you've guessed, the status of "Albus Potter and the War Within." **

**I will waste little time with the preamble, as I'm sure that the first and most immediate question to this author's note is: "Where the **** is it!"**

**The truth, I'm afraid, is that it's not yet ready to be posted, and in fact, there is not as much written as some of you may have hoped. I could (and will) make various excuses as to why this is, but first let me just insist that you don't disregard this note right away: there is a mixture of both bad and good to be said, as well as a few surprises.**

**First, the bad:**

**This extended hiatus has essentially been a combination of a few completely unforseeable factors in my life, which will be listed below. My intention was to being writing as soon as my spring semester finished, but during that last month or so, Zeus tossed his lightning bolts with vigor at my life, resulting in the following:**

**1. My girlfriend ended up in great medical attention, culminating most recently in surgery. A great deal of time was put toward tending to her, but at the same time-**

**2. My family has ended up in great financial straits, the result being that I've now been forced to get a job out of necessity, to go along with college. Obviously, time is now intended to be split between work and social dilemma, with the remaining pieces aimed at writing. But-**

**3. Remember that computer that I've been complaining about for-say, maybe 5 years or so? The one that barely works? Well you needn't worry about that encumbrance anymore, as it now **_**doesn't work at all**_**. The thing won't turn on, so all of my files (including the bits of book 7 that I had fleshed out) are lost until further notice. As you can see, it's been a bit harrowing. **

**But now, the good:**

**War Within is still coming out. I have no intention of ending this series prematurely, and to be quite honest, my inability to get alot of writing done has manifested itself into me getting alot of **_**thinking **_**done; Book 7 is among my most planned out works, and once I get time, I expect writing to move quickly. But how do I get time, you might ask? Thankfully, there's recently been some advancement in the previous debacles:**

**1. My girlfriend's surgery was successful, and she is now in recovery. I'm no longer spending stretches of days at her house, instead letting her gradually recover, so time has opened up in that regard, and for that matter, stress has went down.**

**2. I've purchased a laptop, and really, my computer breaking may be a blessing in disguise. I'm not as used to writing on one as I am the ol' typewriter, but I now have more varied places to write, which should prove instrumental to the process; once I adapt, I think I'll be able to manage nicely.**

**3. I purposefully selected part-time work just so that I can finish this series. Until this journey is done, I will be putting in as few hours as possible, while still bringing in what I can. Perhaps if this was a strictly personal endeavor I'd feel better about letting time slip, but I've been blessed with some of the best fans imagineable, and this hiatus has been long enough as it. My basic plan now is to juggle what's on my plate, and basically write the rest of my summer away. Which brings me to the biggest revelation of the author's note:**

**I'm seriously considering, for the first time ever, simply putting out the whole book. Not like the first two chapters, or the first five, I mean the **_**entire **_**book, in one day, much like you would an actual book. Just uploading everything at once for you guys. My reasoning, really, is broken down into the following:**

**1. It makes it easily convertable to e-readers. I've received a tremendous amount of support from you guys in regards to PDF format and such (for more info, read below to see how you can get the books on your kindle/ipad/nook/whatever came out last week), and publishing the book all at once will make it so that it can all be put into a format for those of you who want to read on the go.**

**2. You've already waited this long. This is by far my longest hiatus, and really, I find it disingenuous to have you guys wait this long for one or two chapters a week. I'd much rather take an extra month or two of writing, have it edited separately, and post the whole thing here on the site to have you guys read; this hopefully justifies the inordinate wait a bit more. Obviously, this means setting a precise release date at some other point, but at least this way you guys know what to expect, and there's no messy posting schedule to worry about, which may well happen considering how preoccupied I may randomly get now that I'm, you know, an adult. I'll be 21 in August, and that's when things can get a bit unpredictable, I think.**

**3. The style calls for it. Book 7 is unlike any other book that you've read from me. Sure, it's all the same plot, and you'll be able to tell it's me and all, but there's a dramatic shift in pacing. Gone are the days of raising mysteries and letting them soak in for a month; you're going to get **_**answers, damn it!**_** Quick spoiler: There is no chapter in this next book that starts out with 'For the next few months Albus did nothing'. Everything is fast, exciting, constantly evolving. I'm pretty much writing what I hoped Deathly Hallows would be back before it came out. Book 7 will still be twenty-something chapters, but it will encompass less time than any other book really, instead with every moment stretching. I just don't think its logical to have you guys read 4 chapters throughout the month, when all four of them take place in the same 5 day span or so; it ruins the flow of the story.**

**Obviously, this is just the current plan. War Within is so planned out that once I get to writing the bulk of it, I think it's doable, and the best option. But it's still your book, it's written for you. So if there's overwhelming negativity over the idea (and I'm sure that you guys will let me know if there is) then I'm sure we can work something out. But right now, I'm really trying to think of what's best for the readers. I don't expect to get as much reviews with posting an entire book (some of you will undoubtedly review often, as you have before, but most would come at the end) and this also most certainly gives me something of a deadline to get things done; whatever I announce as the date of publication, I don't plan on rescinding. But I really feel that it's the best plan all around.**

**Again, I'm sorry for the hiatus. I know it's been interminable, and there's no point in pretending that I couldn't have more to give you than I do. But right now, all that I can do is thank all of you for your continued support, and beg for just a little bit more while I get things moving. I'd also like to give a brief shout out to reader Italiana, for completing the polish translation of "Dragonfang Wand". Also, I had several readers propose ways of getting the downloadable versions of the books available, and I'm now pleased to say that if you do some googling, you'll probably find them somewhere XD. For quick reference though, the rapidshare links to all 6 will be posted on my profile, to download and pass around as you wish!**

**Also, anyone wishing to get in contact with me can do so through private message, the official vekin87 facebook page, or in the official forum, all of which have links on my profile.**

**Once again, thanks so much for your readership and continued support, and I hope to post soon,**

**-Kev**


	16. Author's note 7

**Dearest readers,**

**Vekin87 here, and with some grave news. I'm writing this author's note to inform and to apologize, to assure and to explain. I will not tether you to preamble, however, and will instead come right out and say what the topic of this note is: Albus Potter and the War Within is indefinitely postponed.**

**You might be asking yourself, "What changed from the last note?". The sad fact, however, is **_**nothing.**_** I have lost so much sleep over the prospect of telling you all this, but the looming truth is one that I simply cannot escape; I don't have the time-or the means really-to finish the series. At this moment.**

**Book 7 is not-and will never be-cancelled. The story remains in my head. Every chapter title, every main event, it's all known and summarized. It's getting it all down that's proven to be trouble. What started as a part time job has quickly turned into a full time one (I work at a 24 hour store-Wawa, for those of you in the eastern United States) and my schedule of, well, life, had taken a hit from it. With the semester looming and me probably needing to continue working, Albus continued to elude me, not for lack of want, but for lack of initiative. I feel like I need to come clean on a few things.**

**Albus Potter has ALWAYS been a chapter-by-chapter story. That is how I write it, that is how you read it. Sometimes it's two, sometimes it's three, but when I sit down to write, I sit down to WRITE. But sitting down and writing for the 2-3 hours necessary to complete a chapter of Albus' life is simply impractical. I tried-believe me, I tried-to write it out incrementally, but what I have just isn't **_**good enough**_**. Not the story, not the writing; that's all the same. It's the flow. I am simply incapable of retaining the same style throughout different periods of writing. Four pages there, then three there, then five, then six, all every other day-the change in style is noticeable. Never before have I written Albus in such a way, and starting to do so now has proven extremely frustrating. I immese myself when I write, and I want you guys to do the same. I told myself several things, and the first was that i would NEVER give you guys something that I couldn't call my best. I can't tell you how many pages of work I've erased because, when I go back to writing after a few days of not doing it, and there's a sentence hanging, I need to change the entire flow of the chapter. Albus Potter is not cancelled, but until I can find a schedule-until things in my life change that permit to dedicate the time to the series that it needs-I feel like it would be a waste to give you guys something, to culminate the series, with something that simply seems separate from my other work. I am postpoing the book indefinitely because the book-like all other books in my series-is designed to be written a certain way, and if it doesn't meet that criteria, it simply isn't worth your (or my) time.**

**I know that this is probably unnerving for many of you, and I feel ridiculously guilty. I've probably stressed more over letting this out than i have over any other thing in my LIFE, and that's because you guys are such loyal readers, because you've waited and supported me for so long, and because I know that i've disappointed you all. I WANT to write this book, I WANT to write the ending that I've had in my head for years, and I WANT you guys to read it, but every time I set a quote for myself-this many pages by that day, this scene by then-I fail to meet it, and the end result is rushed, incoherent work that I'm simply not attached to. I find myself now in the same position I was when I wrote Dragonfang Wand in highschool; with only slivers of time to work with, trying to make the most of them. But I'm an adult now-I just turned 21-and shunning the responsabilities that I have now is a differnt ballgame that skiving off Spanish 2 homework. I sat down to write a few days ago and I nearly broke down because I realized something; I wasn't happy. I'm happy when I write Albus. However dark or dreary the story, writing is my release, my way of connecting to you guys and invigorating myself. When I sit down to write now I'm not happy-I'm tired, I'm irritable, I'm anxious, and there's a whole host of things on my mind that interfere with the conclusion to Albus' journey. My work reflects my mood, and I never want to inflict that upon you guys. There will be a time-I know that there will-when I can have the time to re-immerse myself in Albus' world, to write it as I usually do, and to present it to you as intended. But for now I need a break to adjust myself, without the pressure of needing to perform, and I need to let you guys now how truly sorry I am-how actually, almost physically torn I am-over failing to produce for you as promised. There are many stories floating about on the internet, and many of them are popular. But none of them have fans like mine. I received a private message once from (this is personal, but I HAVE to mention it) from a married couple who told me that they read my stories to their children at bed time, and that during the days, the kids would play in the yard and pretend to be my characters. I was so outrageously touched that I told everyone-**_**everyone **_**that knew about my stories-I was so proud of it. That was years ago, and I still remember it, and I will remember it until I die; that was among the greatest praise that I can imagine receiving. And I nearly cried the other day-I'm a grown man, mind you-nearly **_**cried**_** the other day imagining those kids no longer having any more scenes to play out. I don't even know if that family is reading this right now, it was so long ago, but if you are, please know-you and everyone else-that I desperately want to finish this series, but I want to finish it **_**my way**_**, when I'm **_**happy, **_**when I can look over my work-just as I've done before-and say "Oh, they're going to **_**love that**_**." **

**I have every intention of making that happen for you guys one more time. But I cannot string you along and pretend like i have a set day or week or even month, and I cannot pretend like I just need one more good push to get it all out. The truth is, I need you guys to be amazing fans for me one more time; I need you to set my series aside for now, and to stop waiting for it. I can only ask that you let it happen on its own, and that you please forgive me for how wrongly I'm paying you back for your incredible devotion all of these years. **

**On a related note, some of you may be wondering, "What about your original work? What about The Cadaver's Dagger?" Well, that's tricky. **_**Technically**_**, I can write it. Chapters in my original work can be done in a half hour so, so they're immune to the style shifts half way through, and honestly, since it's all new to me-since the characters are my own, flexible creations, it's easier to write. There's a good chance that my original work will stay in the works, even if it is slowly; thankfully, I don't think I'd be disappointing anyone if it took me a year to get out a product that they knew nothing about. One thing that I DON'T want to happen during this postponement is to lose my passion for writing altogether. I frequently, offhandedly, write short stories and poems (this is where I got the idea for the one-shots) and they're simply enough to be jotted down during, say, a lunch break, and I enjoy that. I'm happy with that, and like I said, it shows in my work. My original series is not disimilar from the one-shots sylistically, so I think that I'll at least **_**try**_** to keep up with its writing, to see if I even can. Hopefully, this keeps me in a writing atmosphere and I can transition over between projects better once I adapt to my now extremely hectic schedule. One thing that I've always valued, however, is that you guys never showed yourselves as Albus Potter fans-he's a character, that's a series. You guys are **_**Vekin87**_** fans. I've teetered on the idea for a while, and despite my family and those closest to me insisting that it's a foolish idea (what with plaigarism possible and all) I've realized that, should you guys want to, I'd be more than willing to share some of my original stuff with you. I trust you-all of you-anyone reading this-to treat my work with respect, and as I have documentation to prove that it's mine anyway, I'd be more than willing to let you guys see for yourselves that I haven't given up hope on writing. This is why I'm extending an offer to anyone reading this right now-an offer to read the first, say, 50 pages or so of **_**The Cadaver's Dagger: The Blacklands**_**. Not as a teaser for a soon-to-be-book, not as an excuse, not as a substitute, but as original work that people have asked for before, but that I've always been too embarassed to give away. If you guys are interested in seeing just what I **_**might **_**(It's all tentative, book could be abandoned tomorrow, much easier than Albus could) be up to in the meanwhile, then feel free to email me at vekin87_ _hotmail_._com (get rid of all of the little (_ ) things to make it work, OR you can send me a private message, or even leave a post on the facebook page, to get the sample stuff. It's all free (obviously) and I'm not trying to promote to fans that I already have-its my way of staying in touch even when Albus is far off in the distance. If you want to read the first (maybe 5 chapters? They're about 10 pages each so far) then just let me know and I'll send them along, and you can answer back and critique, or not answer at all, or whatever it's all up to you. Just a slight disclaimed though; the book is thus far rated M, as it takes place in an ancient setting, and I'm trying to incorporate realism heavily. Read at your own discretion.**

**That's really all that I have for you guys; I feel that once I post this, an enormous weight will be lifted from my chest. I don't expect answers or reviews or assurances of faith; I can only hope that you all understand my position, continue to support me, acknowledge that it will be a rock wait before everything gets done, and, once again, forgive me.**

**Your author,**

**-Kev**


End file.
